HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 


By  S.  R.  CROCKETT 


SILVER  SAND 

A  Romance  of  Old    Galloway. 

Cloth,  net  $1.25. 

"  In  this  romance  published  only  a 
few  days  after  his  death,  we  find  Mr. 
Crockett  in  his  familiar  Wigtownshire, 
writing  at  his  best,  and  giving  us  an 
even  finer  display  of  his  powers  than 
when  he  first  captured  his  admirers. 
'  Silver  Sand '  is  certainly  one  of  the 
best  things  he  ever  did." — Pall  Mall 
Gazette. 


HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

A  Story  of  the  Days  of  Cromwell. 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

Crockett's  last  story.  A  rip-roaring 
tale  of  the  days  of  the  great  Oliver — 
days  when  the  dogs  of  war  were  let 
loose  in  English  meadows,  when  the  un- 
beatable Ironsides  invoked  the  spirit  of 
the  God  of  battles,  and  "  the  gallant  of 
England  struck  home  for  the  King." 
Crockett  draws  a  splendid  portrait  of 
Cromwell,  and  depicts  the  stirring 
scenes  of  the  struggle  between  Cavalier 
and  Roundhead,  with  all  the  skill  of  an 
experienced  and  accomplished  literary 
craftsman. 


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HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 


A  STORY  OF  THE  DAYS  OF  CROMWELL 


BY 

S.  R.  CROCKETT 

Author  or 

"The  Raiders,"   "  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet,' 

"Silver  Sand,"  etc.,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


New  York  Chicago  Toronto 

Fleming   H.    Revell    Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1915,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  N.  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  St.,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:   100  Princes  Street 


CONTENTS 


I.  The  Primrose  Way  . 

II,  Exit  the  Philanderer   . 

III.  Hog  Lane 

IV.  "  For  the  Houses  and  the  Lord! 
V.  "  Sleep  Well,  Captain  Ludlow  ! 

VI.  The  Isle  Jatte 

VII.  Hal  Leads  a  "  Forlorn  " 

Vlll.  The  Quaker  of  Boreham  Barns 

IX.  Rupert  Keeps  Tryst 

X.  Molly  Hates  Hal   . 

XI.  Hal's  Homing    .... 

XII.  A  Judas  in  the  Camp 

XIII.  Tobias  Mole,  Expert  in  Women 

XIV.  Lady  Molly  Learns  to  Say  "  Please 
XV.  The  Leaguer  of  Trumpington 

XVI.  A  Midnight  Summons     . 

XVII.  Blind  Man's  Ferry 

XVIII.  The  Hardening  of  Hog  Lane 

XIX.  The  Last  of  Isle  Jatte  . 

XX.  Marston  Moor  .... 

XXI.  A  Little  Escort  Duty  . 

XXII.  Without  Are  Wolves     . 

XXIII.  Great  Pains  to  Little  Purpose 

5 


7 
17 
30 

40 

49 
58 
68 

77 
85 
97 
108 
116 
123 
132 
141 

150 
160 
168 
177 

185 
194 
203 
213 


6  CONTENTS 

XXIV.    The  Substitute 220 

XXV.    Happiness  Corner 228 

XXVI.  The  Amateur  Wizards  ....  235 

XXVII.  Oxford  in  the  King's  Days  .       .       .  245 

XXVIII.     Camp  Fire  Magic 251 

XXIX.    The  Lady  Lulu 258 

XXX.  A  Cromwell  of  Women  ....  269 

XXXI.  "  Hog  Lane  and  Colonel  Ludlow  !  "  .  273 

XXXII.    The  Great  Raid 281 

XXXIII.  The  Hewing  of  Agag      ....  292 

XXXIV.  Naseby  Morning 300 

XXXV.    A  State  Banquet 309 

XXXVI.     High  Strategy 319 


I 

THE  PRIMROSE  WAY 

t(  f^  LAUDE  BATSON,  Israel  Meeks,  Issachar  Wat- 

l     i   son — all  present  ?  " 

"  Right !  "  answered  Cornet  Sam  Squire,  as 
young  Harry  Cromwell  of  Ely  Town  called  the  roll  of 
the  Slepe  Troop — the  Tawnies  or  original  Ironsides. 
Little  more  than  sixteen  years  he  had,  when  he  made  a 
soldier  of  himself — and  Winceby  Fight  not  yet  fought. 
The  Cromwell  cock-birds  began  to  use  their  spurs  early — 
all  but  Lazy  Dick. 

"Hal  Ludlow?" 

"Hal  Ludlow,  I  say?" 

The  boy's  voice  rose  shrill  and  quickly  angered.  He 
felt  himself  insulted  by  Hal  Ludlow's  failure — his  chosen 
friend  to  absent  himself  from  call-over! 

"  Another  petticoat !  "  growled  Cornet  Squire  in  his 
ear,  so  low,  however,  that  his  troop  did  not  hear. 

"  I'll  petticoat  him !  "  cried  the  lad,  flushing.  "  Let 
him  be  horsed  when  he  comes  in,  with  a  couple  of 
muskets  at  his  feet !  " 

"  Don't  break  his  will — this  first  time,"  whispered  wise 
Cornet  Squire,  the  Colonel's  adjutant;  "let  me  speak  to 
him — we  need  not  tell  the  Colonel !  " 

"  But  the  discipline  ?  My  father  made  me  swear  to 
maintain  that."  The  boy's  eyes  flashed  and  he  pushed 
his  helmet  back  upon  his  tangle  of  dark  curls. 

For  Hal  Ludlow  was  his  mate  and  comrade.  A  year 
ago  they  had  fought  and  tussled,  rolling  each  other  over 
in  the  dust  of  the  playground  at  Ely  Grammar  School. 
Since  then  Harry  had  followed  his  father  and  had  learned 

7 


8  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

many  things — to  fear  God  (well,  no — that  came  natural 
to  a  Cromwell) — to  fear  his  father,  which  was  equally- 
easy — to  worship  him,  which  was  easier  still — and  above 
all  to  live  and  die  for  the  Houses  and  the  new  cavalry  of 
which  the  Slepe  Troop  was  the  model. 

But  of  the  two  Henries,  one  had  remained  helter- 
skelter  Hal,  and  he  by  no  means  the  grave  and  soldierly 
boy  of  whom  the  small  yeomen  and  farmers  of  the  troop 
agreed  with  chuckles  of  satisfaction  that  he  was  "  the 
very  spit  of  his  father." 

Yet  Hal  Ludlow  was  two  years  older,  of  a  richer  fam- 
ily, always  with  money  among  his  hands — money  such  as 
a  young  Cromwell  never  saw  except  in  the  sacred  shape 
of  "  trooper's  pay."  The  Colonel  himself  often  went  with 
a  paltry  five  pieces  in  his  own  pocket,  and  so  must  his 
sons — without  the  five  pieces.  Of  course  Hal  Ludlow 
would  lend,  and  so  would  Sam  Squire,  but  it  was  unhandy 
to  be  owing  money  to  a  man  whom  you  might  have  to 
set  astride  that  awkward  animal  the  wooden  horse,  for  a 
fixed  number  of  hours,  in  the  interests  of  the  New  Dis- 
cipline. What  if  he  asked  you  for  those  three  gold  pieces 
you  owed  him  right  before  the  sentry,  and  that  sentry 
old  Jack  Flinders,  a  leader  of  the  Praying  Gang  and  a 
confidant  of  the  Colonel's? 

Harry  Cromwell  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  it.  He 
would  rather  have  fought  a  dozen  Camdeners  at  a  wood 
corner  than  face  his  father  after  that,  so  he  agreed  that 
Cornet  Sam  should  speak  in  the  gate  with  Hal  Ludlow, 
and  that  the  horsing  should  stand  over  for  the  present. 

"  Never  again !  "  his  boy's  heart  was  crying,  "  never 
again  will  I  borrow  a  sixpence,  even  for  a  present  for 
mother  and  the  girls  in  the  old  house  at  Ely."  Bess  and 
Bridget  must  do  without  silk  hose  rather  than  that  he 
with  his  captaincy  new  upon  him  should  stand  shamed 
before  his  father. 

Then  in  the  very  bitter  midst  of  his  repentance  the 
comforting  thought  came  to  him  that  Sam  Squire  was  a 


THE  PRIMROSE  WAY  9 

rich  man.     He  was  an  officer  too  and  easy-going.     No 
harm  then,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  in  borrowing, 
a  shilHng  or  two  from  Cornet  Sam.     Why,  his  father 
himself  did  so  often,  though  of  course  that  was  to  buy 
hay  for  the  horses. 

Hal  Cromwell  adjusted  his  helmet  of  which  he  was 
very  proud.  It  was  of  Flemish  make  and  had  a  white 
plume  of  a  most  noble  aspect.  Hal  Cromwell  wished  that 
he  might  encounter  the  other  Hal  somewhere  out  in  the 
woods.  He  would  there  and  then  strip  to  him,  and 
though  Hal  Ludlow  was  two  years  older  and  though  the 
girls  admired  him  because  of  his  moustache  and  the 
dashing  way  he  had  with  him,  he,  Henry  Cromwell,  could 
thrash  him  again,  as  he  had  before  when  the  shadows  of 
Ely  steeple  lay  across  the  dust  of  the  playground  in 
which  they  writhed  and  punched  one  another  blind  and 
dumb,  each  gasping  "  Cry  enough,"  and  almost  ready 
to  do  it  himself. 

"  Oh,  '  petticoating  ' !  The  shame  of  it !  What  was 
the  use  of  girls  to  men  of  war,  gazetted  captains  of 
seventeen  mature  years,  under  the  New  Discipline  and 
his  father's  articles  of  war — in  which  women  did  not 
figure  except  as  feeble  folk  destined  to  be  sent  cellar- 
ward  in  cases  of  siege  and  battery  by  heavy  artillery. 

Yet  he  had  thought  so  highly  of  Hal  Ludlow  and  been 
so  proud  of  him  once,  that  he  had  proposed  him  as 
captain  in  his  place. 

"  Do  as  I  bid  you,  sir,"  the  Colonel  had  said,  "  a  Crom- 
well must  captain  the  Slepe  Troop.  Dick  ought  to,  but 
Dick  is  too  easy,  so  you  must  stand  to  it — with  your 
father  at  the  elbow  and  Sam  Sobersides  to  keep  you 
straight.  Master  Hal  Ludlow  will  make  an  excellent 
cornet  when  he  is  broken  in  a  little !  " 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said.  There  never  was  when 
Colonel  Cromwell  finished  speaking.  They  knew  that, 
the  gentlemen  of  the  Westminster  Commons  when  they 
listened  to  the  tall  man  in  the  ill-cut  countr^'-made  suit. 


10  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

The  House  even  heard  him  gladly,  with  a  curious  defer- 
ence, astonishing  to  the  dandies  who  swaggered  and 
lounged  there  of  an  idle  afternoon. 

The  Slepe  Troop  had  been  sent  out  from  Ely  to  watch 
the  Soham  road  for  "  Candishers  "  and  "  Camdeners  " — 
that  is,  half-organised  raiders  owning  vague  allegiance 
to  my  Lord  Camden  or  to  Charles  Cavendish — more 
exactly,  plundering  at  large  in  their  names  and  the 
King's. 

And  all  this  while  where  was  the  delinquent  Hal,  that 
Puritan  a  panache,  the  Roundhead  with  the  Plume,  as 
Le  Franc  the  Huguenot  weaver  described  him.  Why, 
his  horse  was  stabled  in  the  great  Tithe  Farm  of  Ely 
Town,  quite  inconspicuously  be  it  said,  and  he  himself 
was  in  the  garden  of  the  Tithe  House  making  careless 
love  to  Bess  and  Biddy  Cromwell.  These  young  women 
were  gay  and  lighthearted.  They  scoffed  at  military 
discipline — at  least,  when  their  father  was  a  score  of 
miles  out  off  on  the  road  to  Boston  and  they  were  free 
to  chatter  their  loudest.  They  encouraged  their  hand- 
some wooer  to  neglect  his  duties. 

"  Why,  your  captain !  'Tis  only  Harry — he  is  no  more 
than  a  boy.  We  make  him  stand  about  when  he  comes 
in  our  way,  we  can  tell  you — if  he  does  wear  a  Flanders 
helmet !  " 

"  Doubtless,  young  ladies,"  said  Hal,  "  only  the  mis- 
chief is  I  am  by  no  means  his  sister,  but  a  private  in  his 
troop,  whom  if  I  disobey  and  it  comes  to  your  father's 
ears,  he  will  send  me  skipping. 

"  '  Out  you  go,  my  lad — obey  or  go  home,'  he  will  say. 
*  I  can  use  the  whip  with  any  man,  but  just  now  I  am 
raising  a  thousand  men  who  may  need  the  rein,  but  never 
the  whip,  never  the  spur.  If  you  are  not  good  enough — 
out  you  go ! '  That,  girls,  is  what  your  father  will  say. 
I  would  swear  it,  but  under  the  new  rules  that  costs 
twelve  pence ! " 

The  girls,  gamesome  maids  of  nineteen  and  sixteen. 


THE  PRIMROSE  WAY  11 

sobered  a  little  at  the  mention  of  their  father,  but  re- 
covered at  the  thought  of  the  enlistment  muster  on  the 
Boston  Road,  twenty  good  miles  away.  Indeed,  they 
were  depending  upon  that,  for  had  it  been  otherwise 
they  would  have  been  indoors  "  helping  mother "  or 
making  down  clothes  for  Mall  and  Fanny,  their  scamper- 
ing sisters  whose  clamorous  entrance  at  half-past  four 
from  the  school  in  the  close  would  put  a  stop  to  their 
pleasant  chat  with  the  "  plumed  Puritan "  under  the 
Tithing  House  elms. 

Let  us  look  at  Bridget  Cromwell,  nineteen  and  well 
grown,  modest  of  public  demeanour  as  becometh  her 
father's  daughter,  mirthful  and  even  kittenish  in  private, 
she  gave  little  idea  of  the  bold  soldier's  wife  she  was  to 
become.  She  had  her  own  difficulties  with  a  mother  who 
would  have  chained  her  to  a  more  severe  domesticity, 
and  still  more  with  that  tricksome  imp  her  sister  Bess, 
now  sixteen,  the  only  Cromwell  who,  till  Mall  and  the 
Featherhead  grew  up,  ever  dared  openly  flout  the  for- 
midable "  Lord  of  the  Fens."  These  three,  being  chil- 
dren, somehow  discerned  the  tender  heart  under  the 
shining  breastplate  of  the  First  Ironside,  and  having 
found  the  secret,  they  played  with  it  to  the  mingled 
admiration  and  fear  of  the  entire  household. 

It  was  undeniably  pleasant  under  the  elm  trees  in  the 
Tithe  garden.  The  sun-dial  a  couple  of  yards  away 
marked  the  flight  of  time,  but  neither  truant  Hal  of  the 
Slepe  Troop  nor  his  hostesses  wasted  a  glance  upon  it. 
Bridget  had  taken  the  young  man's  helmet  upon  her  knee 
and  was  arranging  the  plume  so  that  it  would  fall  well 
to  the  back,  while  Bess  was  making  him  a  white  true 
love-knot  to  wear  on  his  wrist.  Truly  a  fortunate 
young  fellow ! 

But  just  then,  when  things  were  going  most  pleasantly, 
there  swung  into  the  garden  a  tall  man,  helmeted  and 
corsleted,  spurs  clanking  and  sword  jangling — a  kind  of 
sudden  archangel's  trump  of  doom  to  the  trio  by  the 


12  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

sun-dial  under  the  Tithe  elms.  Yet  he  did  not  look  in  any- 
way terrible,  this  man.  He  carried  a  little  girl  on  each 
shoulder,  their  feet  beating  a  joyous  rataplan  on  the 
mail,  and  their  bodies  swaying  as  the  big  man  strode 
along,  steadying  them  with  a  hand  apiece  under  the 
armpit  to  right  and  left  of  the  formidable  steel-clad 
head. 

They  had  encountered  Colonel  Cromwell  as  he  entered 
his  own  door,  taken  him  by  escalade,  and  now  triumphed 
and  shouted  high  over  the  grim  face  for  once  relaxed 
into  a  smile.  It  was  the  single  defeat  of  the  Ironside 
chieftain.    He  was  never  beaten  again. 

Then  he  caught  sight  of  the  group  under  the  trees, 
who  sat,  all  but  Bess,  frozen  and  afraid.  His  brow  dark- 
ened. He  set  the  little  girls  down  and  out  of  his  pouch 
he  took  some  coppers. 

"  There,  Mall,  be  off  with  you  to  Mistress  Doudenay's 
and  buy  some  sweet  cakes.  Let  not  your  mother  see  you. 
She  loves  not  feeding  between  meals !  She  is  right,  my 
dame,  but  I  come  not  home  every  day  to  be  abused  so — 
worse  than  by  a  score  of  King's  men !    Off,  ye  scraplets !  " 

The  two  took  hands  and  fled,  shouting  because  of  the 
"  sweet  cakes "  and  the  pennies  to  be  spent  at  Gossip 
Doudenay's. 

When  he  turned,  Bess  was  there  ready  for  him.  In  a 
moment  her  arms  were  about  his  neck. 

"  Do  not  be  very  angry,"  she  whispered,  "  it  was  our 
fault.  We  made  him  stay.  It  is  only  Hal  Ludlow  after 
all." 

"  This  is  New  Model  with  a  vengeance,"  said  Oliver, 
fixing  the  young  man  over  his  daughter's  head  with  a 
glance  that  cut  like  a  knife.  "  You  show  a  pretty  ex- 
ample— you,  the  Commissioner's  son !  Where  is  your 
troop,  sir?  Is  Henry  malingering  also?  No,  he  would 
not  dare.  Where  is  your  troop,  I  say?  Have  you  got 
a  tongue  that  can  speak  ?  " 

The  lion  was  roaring,  and  speech  immediately  after 


THE  PRIMROSE  WAY  13 

that  reverberation  was  not  easy  to  any  son  of  man, 
Parliamentary  Commissioner  or  plain  citizen.  But  Hal 
Ludlow  had  risen  to  his  feet  at  the  first  glance  from  the 
stern  man's  eyes.  As  if  moved  by  a  spring  he  stood  at 
attention. 

"  My  troop  should  be  on  the  road  to  Soham,  sir," 
stammered  poor  Hal,  "  I  meant  to  join  them — only  I 
forgot — I  never  forgot  before !  " 

"  Please  listen,"  Bess  Cromwell's  whisper  came  again, 
"  it  was  all  our  fault.  We  were  so  bored  with  doing 
nothing,  we  wanted  Hal  to  play  with !  " 

Perhaps  there  was  the  least  flicker  of  something  not 
unkindly  about  the  corner  of  Colonel  Cromwell's  mouth, 
but  it  passed  like  the  skarrow  of  summer  lightning  across 
a  crack  in  a  window  shutter. 

He  took  down  his  daughter's  hands  quite  gently. 

"  Go  to  your  mother,  girls — both  of  you  !  " 

Bridget  and  Bess  passed  out  of  sight,  moving  swift  and 
noiselessly  over  the  grass. 

"  And  now,  young  man,"  said  Colonel  Cromwell,  un- 
helming  himself,  "  I  have  a  minute  in  which  to  say  a 
few  words  to  your  father's  son,  such  as  I  would  that  in 
like  circumstances  he  would  say  to  mine." 

He  looked  him  up  and  down  with  one  raking  double 
glance,  and  bold  Hal  Ludlow's  blood  chilled  in  his  veins. 

"  Your  helmet,  sir !  "  Hal  set  it  upon  the  table,  and 
Cromwell  with  one  gathering  snatch  tore  away  the  white 
plume  and  left  the  black  metal  bald. 

"  Now,  sir,  your  wrist !  " 

And  he  wrenched  away  the  white  love-knot.  These 
were  the  distinctive  marks  of  the  Slepe  Troop,  and  with 
a  gulp  Hal  Ludlow  felt  that  he  was  being  degraded. 

The  Colonel  set  himself  down  on  the  bench,  and  played 
absently  with  the  deserted  workbox  on  the  little  square 
table  before  him.  But  his  mind  was  far  indeed  from 
scissor  blades  and  tags  of  silk  ribbon. 


14  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

The  silence  of  fate  weighed  on  the  small  sun-flecked 
garden  of  the  Tithing  House  under  the  shadow  of  St. 
Mary's  steeple  in  Ely  City.  Colonel  Cromwell  seemed  in 
no  haste  to  speak.  He  looked  straight  before  him — as 
it  were  beyond  and  through  Hal  of  the  Slepe  Troop.  But 
he  meant  to  speak  and  to  some  purpose.  The  atmos- 
phere grew  heavy  and  electric  in  that  quiet  flowery  close. 
Hal  Ludlow  was  a  bold  fellow  enough  in  the  shock  of 
combat,  but  this  was  quite  a  different  business.  To 
stand  and  wait  for  Colonel  Cromwell  to  open  fire  was 
nervous  work  even  for  the  best  fortified  cities — how  much 
worse  for  a  young  man  slipped  from  the  path  of  duty. 

His  gaze  returned  suddenly  upon  the  culprit,  almost 
with  the  sound  of  clean-running  steel,  as  a  sword  half 
drawn  snicks  back  into  its  sheath. 

"  Hal  Ludlow,"  he  said,  "  because  you  are  young, 
and  because  you  are  your  father's  son,  I  shall  deal  with 
you  man  to  man.  Perhaps  you  think  that  this  is  a  light 
thing  which  you  have  done,  to  leave  your  regiment  on 
service  that  you  may  gossip  an  afternoon  with  my  girls." 

Trooper  Ludlow  hung  his  head.  He  had  in  fact 
thought  it  no  great  matter — that  is,  before  the  incoming 
of  Colonel  Cromwell.  But  things  seemed  to  have  a  way 
of  changing  their  similitude  under  the  brooding  thunder- 
cloud of  that  brow  and  the  occasional  lurid  lightning  of 
Oliver's  sombre  eyes. 

"  A  little  thing,  and  in  itself  innocent — yes,  and  for 
most  young  men  good,  even  laudable — to  speak  an  hour 
or  two  with  honest  maidens.  But  not  for  any  soldier  of 
mine,  Hal,  and  as  such  I  have  broken  you  until  such 
time  as  you  prove  yourself  worthy." 

"  It  is  hard  to  hear  you  say  so,  sir,"  stammered  poor 
young  Hal,  "  I  would  die  to  serve  you." 

"  It  is  possible,"  said  Cromwell,  unmoved.  "  Any  fool 
can  die,  but  what  I  want  is  a  thousand  men  who  will 
obey  me.  I  cannot  have  a  laggard,  a  garden-loiterer  in 
the  battle-field  of  the  Lord.     My  princes  must  be  alto- 


THE  PRIMROSE  WAY  15 

gether  kings!  You  might  do  for  my  Lord  of  Essex  or 
Manchester,  but  till  you  have  proven  your  armour  you 
are  not  good  enough  for  me.  Why  have  we  of  the  faith 
never  had  a  cavalry  which  could  stand  against  the  horse- 
men of  the  Rhine  princes  ?  Because  our  men  have  been 
cellarmen,  tavern  drawers,  or  plough-horse  yokels,  com- 
manded by  the  first  man  who  had  favour  with  a  parlia- 
ment member  or  an  army  commissioner.  Rupert's  men 
are  gentlemen  of  birth  and  courage.  They  had  been  on 
horseback  ever  since  they  could  walk,  and  what  wonder 
that  they  go  through  us  Hke  fire  through  gorse.  But  I 
will  raise  and  range  a  thousand  men  who  shall  break  the 
stout  heart  of  the  Prince  and  abase  the  glory  of  his  high 
looks.  To  do  that  I  must  try  every  man  of  them.  I  must 
weed  and  prune." 

"  You  will  find  me  do  my  duty  on  the  day  of  battle. 
Colonel  Cromwell,"  said  the  young  man,  lifting  his  head 
with  the  young  fire  dancing  in  his  eyes.  The  chief  of  the 
New  Model  quelled  him  with  a  look. 

"  The  day  of  battle,  say  you  ?  Learn  then  from  me 
that  he  who  would  be  ready  on  the  day  of  battle  must  be 
ready  every  day.  How  know  you  that  Lucy  or  Caven- 
dish are  not  now  cutting  in  upon  your  late  comrades 
while  you  have  stayed  philandering  here  ?  " 

Hal  Ludlow  grew  pale  and  his  brow  sweated  cold  even 
in  the  afternoon  heat  of  that  confined  space — "  philander- 
ing "...  broken  for  philandering  .  .  .  how  could  he 
face  his  father?    The  leader  spoke  on. 

"  Go,  if  you  will,  to  your  cousin,  Wiltshire  Edmond  of 
Hazlerigg's  Horse.  He  is,  I  hear,  with  General  Waller. 
I  will  recommend  you  for  a  cornetcy  and  I  make  no 
doubt  that  you  will  serve  him  well.  But  what  is  good 
enough  for  the  other  armies  will  not  do  for  the  East- 
ern Association.  They  build  of  brick  and  are  thrown 
down.  I  build  of  hewn  stone  which  shall  stand  the 
shock." 

"  If  I  do  something  worthy  you  will  take  me  back. 


16  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Colonel  Cromwell?  I  would  rather  be  a  trooper  with 
you  than  command  a  regiment  elsewhere." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Cromwell,  "  I  will  deal  with  you 
as  with  my  own.  So  much  freedom  I  use  with  you.  My 
son  Oliver  is  with  my  Lord  Essex.  I  love  him  well,  but 
there  he  bides  till  I  am  sure  of  him — aye,  though  I  never 
see  him  again.  My  son  Richard  I  keep  only  because  he 
is  not  to  be  trusted,  except  under  my  own  eye.  Henry  is 
the  only  one  who  can  walk  alone,  and  him  I  keep  close 
with  the  oldest  and  the  safest  of  our  people  at  his  right 
hand  and  at  his  left.  Mark  you  well,  Henry  Ludlow,  to 
be  of  us,  is  to  be  of  the  chosen,  is  to  be  a  citizen  of  no 
mean  city.  Once  I  have  welded  my  iron  on  the  anvil, 
we  shall  tumble  Rupert  in  the  dust  when  next  we  meet 
him.  Every  battle,  sayeth  the  Scripture,  is  with  con- 
fused noise  and  garments  rolled  in  blood,  but  ours  shall 
be  with  burning  and  fuel  of  fire !  " 

The  Colonel  rose  and  handed  the  deplumed  helmet  to 
the  young  man. 

"  This  will  serve  you  well  with  Hazlerigg's  men,  and 
the  Wiltshire  captains  will  permit  what  I  dare  not.  Go — 
I  will  send  letters  of  introduction  to  your  lodgings  !  " 

"  But  if  I  do  something — if  I  do  something "  Hal 

Ludlow  gasped.  He  went  red  and  white  with  shame  and 
anguish — such  a  little  thing  and  so  heavy  a  punishment. 

"  When  you  do  anything,  let  me  see  it — by  their  works 
ye  shall  know  them !  " 

He  nodded  curtly,  looking  the  discarded  Ironside  fair 
in  the  face,  not  wholly  without  a  certain  grim  approval 
of  his  attitude. 

Hal  Ludlow  stood  fixed  at  the  salute  till  the  tall  figure 
had  jingled  itself  inside.  Then  he  sighed,  glanced  once 
at  the  parlour  windows  hoping  for  a  farewell  salutation 
which  did  not  come,  and  then  strode  manfully  through 
the  great  sweet-smelling  spaces  of  the  Tithe  Barns,  out 
of  the  big  wain  doors  into  the  yellow  slant  of  afternoon 
sunlight  which  filled  the  streets  of  Ely. 


II 

EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER 

HAL  LUDLOW  did  not  go  home,  he  was  in  no 
mood  to  take  another  dressing  down  from  his 
father.  Colonel  Cromwell's  might  indeed  be  con- 
sidered sufficient  for  any  average  young  man,  not  an 
absolutely  impervious  blockhead.  Hal  had  had  his  dose 
for  that  day.  But  there  was  a  look  on  his  face  that  was 
not  natural  to  him.  There  was  no  panache  in  his 
Puritanism  any  more — the  deplumed  helmet  compelled 
humility. 

From  the  windows  of  the  "  White  Hart "  young 
voices  hailed  him,  bidding  him  come  up  and  join  the 
garrison  m.ess.  He  waved  an  acknowledging  hand,  but 
kept  on  his  way.  For  the  moment  he  would  leave  his 
horse  in  the  corner  of  the  Tithe  barn.  He  had  asked  the 
caretaker,  Tom  All-Alone,  to  make  him  comfortable  and 
give  him  a  feed  of  corn,  Hereward  would  be  all  right. 
He  and  Tom  knew  each  other  of  old.  It  was  by  no 
means  his  first  visit  to  the  Tithe  barn,  not  the  first 
time  that  Hereward  had  been  shamefully  deserted  by 
his  master. 

There  is  a  little  neglected  street  in  Ely,  lying  towards 
the  easterly  wall,  which  bears  the  name  of  Hog  Lane. 
In  Tom  All-Alone's  early  days  he  had  been  one  of  the 
town  swineherds,  and  daily  had  led  his  grunting  awkward 
squad  along  this  narrow  thoroughfare  out  upon  the 
"  marsh  commons."  But  now  Hog  Lane  had  been  built 
up  and  a  colony  of  "  peculiar  people  "  had  established 
themselves  there.  These  were  the  Anabaptists,  or  as 
some  folk  called  them.   Levellers — dwelling   apart  and 

17 


18  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

indeed  shunned  not  only  by  respectable  Church  and 
Presbyterian,  but  even  by  Independents  and  unclassed 
"  Sectaries."  The  fact  was,  the  shadow  of  Munster  Kirk 
and  the  orgies  of  the  famous  John  had  for  a  hundred 
years  left  a  deep  and  wholly  undeserved  stain  upon  the 
English  Anabaptists, 

But  it  so  happened  that  Hal  Ludlow  knew  them  well. 
He  was  of  the  Cambridgeshire  Ludlows,  and  his  imme- 
diate kin  were  zealous  for  the  Presbyterian  discipline. 
But  his  rnother's  kinfolk  were  out  of  the  west,  while 
his  uncle  and  cousins  of  the  Wiltshire  Ludlows  leaned 
to  Anabaptistry  and  any  other  creed  or  lack  of  creed 
which  made  for  raw  red  republicanism.  Personally  Hal 
cared  little  about  the  matter,  but  he  loved  all  that  was 
odd  and  adventurous,  and  he  knew  that  there  were 
daring  spirits  and  desperate  adventurers  among  that 
little  colony  in  Hog  Lane. 

It  touches  ofl  Hal  Ludlow's  character  at  this  period 
that  he  caught  himself  humming: — 

"  Fill  the  bowl  with  rosy  wine," 

and  checked  only  long  enough  to  console  his  mind  with 
the  closing  stanza: — 

"  Let's  banish  business,  banish  sorrow. 
To  the  gods  belong  to-morrow." 

Again  Hal  Ludlow  halted  himself.  He  loved  a  catch 
and  could  troll  one  with  the  best,  but  the  stern  Puritan 
atmosphere  in  which  he  had  grown  up  kept  his  conscience 
alert  and  fine.  He  knew  that  catches  must  be  left  to 
idle  cavaliers  untouched  by  the  Word,  but  he  had  a  born 
faculty  for  adaptation  and  made  very  good  ones  out  of 
the  Truro  version  of  the  Psalms.  Colonel  Cromwell's 
psalm  was  the  Hundred-and-tenth,  and  arranged  by 
Hal  Ludlow  it  had  gone  very  well  to  the  trampling 
horses  of  the  31epe  Troop — 


EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER  19 

"  The  Lord  did  say  unto  my  Lord, 
Sit  thou  at  my  right  hand 
Until  I  make  thy  foes  a  stool 
Whereon  thy  feet  may  stand." 

Then  came  in  the  rear  ranks  stormily,  reduplicating  the 
line — 

"  Whereon  thy  feet  may  stand." 

Hal   absolutely  rejoiced  as  he  struck  into   the   second 
verse — 

"  The  Lord  shall  out  of  Sion  send 
The  rod  of  Thy  great  power: 
In  midst  of  all  Thine  enemies 
Be  Thou  the  governor!" 

And  from  behind  and  from  far  before  pealed  the  re- 
frain of  that  famous  battle  catch  of  the  Ironsides — 

"In  midst  of  all  Thine  enemies 
Be  Thou   the  governor! " 

Nor  was  there  any  doubt  as  to  who  among  the  enemies 
of  God  was  to  govern.  Colonel  Cromwell  would  occa- 
sionally check  them,  turning  in  his  saddle  with  frowning 
brow  and  uplifted  hand.  But  on  such  occasions  the 
Ironsides  answered  him  with  a  mighty  shout  which 
carried  their  faith  and  their  conviction.  They  swept 
away  his  protests  with  that  unanimous  command  which 
was  afterwards  to  shake  down  the  walls  of  towns  and 
commonwealths — 

"Be  Thou  the  governor!" 

Then  Colonel  Cromwell  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
and  perhaps  a  secret  heart-swelling  as  if  already  Destiny 
called,  would  turn  in  his  saddle  and  ride  on. 

The  heart  of  Hal  Ludlow  was  filled  with  sudden  an- 
guish.    Never  more  was  he  to  lead  that  music,  never 


20  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

more  blow  on  the  trumpet  the  order  of  charge,  swing  it 
behind  him,  change  his  sword  hand  and  see  the  Slepe 
Troop  drive  the  foe  hke  chaff  down  the  wind.  Another 
army?  There  was  but  one  leader  for  him,  that  tall 
rugged  man  who  had  spoken  so  harshly  in  the  garden  that 
afternoon.  There  were  other  charges  of  horses,  but  only 
one  Slepe  Troop.  He  had  laughed  at  their  ways,  at 
Israel  Meek's  whine  and  Tab  Tomline's  texts,  but  in 
his  heart  of  hearts  he  rejoiced  in  them,  and  knew  that 
they  were  going  to  make  the  world  over  again.  The 
Slepe  Troop  was  the  Model  for  the  New  Model,  and  the 
Colonel  was  quite  right  to  be  jealous  of  its  reputation. 
What  a  fool  he  had  been !    Ah,  what  a  fool ! 

At  the  corner  of  Market  Square  he  came  upon  Levi 
AUister,  orderly  and  master  of  music  to  the  Slepe  Troop. 
Allister  was  a  hard-baked  Independent,  a  small  house- 
holder much  trusted  by  Colonel  Cromwell,  who  had  had 
many  years'  traffic  with  him  in  the  matter  of  buying 
and  selling  hay  and  corn,  a  business  akin  to  horse-dealing 
in  that  it  takes  a  watchful  Providence  to  keep  even  a 
professing  Christian  fairly  honest.  But  under  the  eyes 
of  his  Maker  and  those  of  Colonel  Cromwell,  Levi 
Allister  had  well  approven  himself  for  twenty  years. 

"  Hey,  lad,  where  away  ?  They  be  in  a  pretty  taking 
down  Soham  way  along  o'  thee.  Where  hast  thou  been 
and  what  a-doin'?  If't  be  the  wenches,  say  nawt,  but 
ride  the  wooden  horse  thou  must.  For  Sam  Squire  and 
Captain  Harry  are  rarely  mounted  against  thee.  I  was 
sent  to  fetch  thee,  lad,  so  haste  and  ride.  I  must  see 
the  Colonel  before  I  go,  but  get  thy  beast  and  wait  for 
me  at  the  bridge." 

"  No  use,  Allister,"  said  the  young  man  sadly,  "  Colonel 
Cromwell  has  broken  me.  He  has  cast  me  out  of  the 
Slepe  Troop  as  a  man  unworthy." 

There  came  the  deep  note  of  a  man's  suffering  out  of 
that  young  breast,  always  a  touching  thing  when  a 
lad's  pride  struggles  with  his  manhood. 


EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER  21 

"  Sake-a-sake,  whatever  has't  been  doing  of,  Hal?" 

"  Laughing  with  Bess  and  Bridget  in  the  Tithe  House 
garden.    The  Colonel  fairly  caught  me." 

"  Um-m-m !  "  Levi  hummed  through  his  nose  medita- 
tively, "  that  is  a  most  ungentle  providence.  Why  did 
you  let  yourself  be  caught?  " 

"  Biddy  Cromwell  was  flouting  me !  " 

"  Well,  her  hath  flouted  thee  to  some  purpose,  and 
then  I  be  supposing  Oliver  did  dress  thee  down 
rarely? " 

"  Till  the  sweat  stood  chill  as  a  white  Christmas  on 
me,  Allister,  and  he  shore  off  my  badge  and  plume  which 
I  wore,  being  of  the  first  mount,  as  you  know." 

"  And  did  he  mention  no  loophole — order  no  punish- 
ment? " 

"  None,"  said  the  youth  sadly ;  "  these  I  should  have 
been  glad  of  and  suffered  like  a  man,  but  he  told  me  I 
was  in  noways  good  enough  for  his  regiments  and  that 
I  might  go,  with  his  blessing,  to  enlist  with  Hazlerigg 
and  Essex  as  being  all  I  was  fit  for." 

"  Ah — there  speaks  Oliver — I  can  hear  him !  " 

"  Would  to  God  you  had  then — and  not  I,"  said  the 
young  man  rather  testily.  "  He  told  me  that  when  I 
proved  my  worthiness  by  deeds,  he  would  think  again 
upon  the  matter." 

"  'Tis  a  pity,"  said  the  chief  trumpeter,  "  for  the 
Candishers  are  swarming  down  across  Lincolnshire  like 
a  hive  of  bees  at  Lammastide.  Dick  Lucy  commands 
them,  or  at  least  they  buzz  thickest  about  him  when  he 
goes  after  plunder." 

Instantly  Hal  Ludlow  was  attentive.  "  Where  are 
these  Candishers  ? "  he  inquired  carelessly,  but  he 
listened  well  for  the  answer. 

"  I  heard  say  that  they  are  to  rendezvous  at  Whittlesea 
where  the  Wisbee  men  will  meet  us.  Our  sixth  troop 
has  gone  to  Downham,  but  will  be  returned  in  time  to 
ride  with  us.     We  are  to  fall  on  when  we  cross  Nen 


22  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Water.  The  day  after  to-morrow  it  is  to  be  done.  They 
have  some  time  to  lose  their  edge  before  it  comes  to 
that.  There  is  good  ale  in  the  cellars  of  Market  Deeping. 
I  should  not  be  surprised  if  they  abode  there  till  we 
smoked  them  out.  'Tis  that  young  daredevil  of  a  Dick 
Lucy  who  leads  them  out  harrying.  Cavendish  would 
have  a  better  care  of  his  men,  but  the  truth  is  they  have 
no  idea  of  what  Oliver's  lads  can  do.  Being  of  the 
King's  side,  the  veriest  hedge-varlet  and  road-scraper 
among  them  fancies  himself  a  Rupert  as  soon  as  he  can 
keep  in  a  saddle  for  five  minutes." 

"  Thank  you,  Levi  lad,"  called  out  Hal  as  the  trum- 
peter lifted  his  reins  and  the  charger  danced  about  on 
the  paving  stones  impatient  to  be  gone,  "  to  our  next 
meeting " 

"  In  the  Lord's  name  I  say  aye  to  that,"  cried  Allister 
over  his  shoulder,  "  and  may  it  be  soon,  lad.  We  shall 
weary  for  your  merry  pipe  when  the  march  is  long  and 
the  psalm  strikes  up." 

Hal  turned  down  Hog  Lane  and  marked  the  small 
clean  houses,  some  of  brick  and  some  merely  of  clay  and 
wattle  like  a  fenman's  shelter.  For  these  long  lank  men 
came  from  the  Droves — French  Drove  and  Gedney  Hill 
mostly — to  be  quit  of  the  incursions  of  the  enemy's 
raiders. 

They  were  an  argumentative  set  when  they  got  to- 
gether, but  relapsed  immediately  into  long  moody  silences 
which  came  from  the  custom  of  week-long  solitary  medi- 
tation out  on  the  fens  and  broads.  Famous  men  too  with 
the  brad-awl,  cobblers  like  to  none  and  able  to  turn  you 
out  in  an  afternoon  a  better  pair  of  shoes  to  march  in 
than  any  that  were  sent  up  by  the  Parliament  Commis- 
sioners sitting  at  Westminster.  This  was  now  their 
business  in  Ely,  and  Colonel  Cromwell  kept  them  busy, 
for  besides  the  foot  regiments  for  my  Lord  Manchester, 
he  had  set  them  to  making  jack-boots  for  his  horse. 
They  had  never  done  such  a  thing  before  (they  said), 


EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER  23 

but  let  him  give  them  a  pattern  and  Hog  Lane  would  do 
its  best. 

Nor  was  Hog  Lane's  best  any  mean  thing.  First  of 
all  the  boots  had  to  satisfy  the  Colonel,  who  knew  how 
to  be  served  with  a  penny's  worth  for  his  penny  as  well 
as  any  man.  But  chiefly  the  task  was  easy  because  they 
were  hiding  among  them  one  Hubert  Van  Kamp,  a 
Hollander  of  extreme  opinions  who,  save  in  the  secret 
councils  of  the  Anabaptists,  gave  no  certain  account  of 
himself — but  who  in  his  time  had  made  riding-boots  for 
Maurice,  Prince  of  Orange. 

Hog  Lane,  except  in  the  way  of  trade,  kept  much  to 
itself.  It  discouraged  visitors,  and  even  Hal,  whom  they 
received  first  because  of  his  Wiltshire  relations  and 
afterwards  for  his  own  healthy  youth  and  the  genuine 
liking  he  manifested  for  their  society,  was  made  to 
understand  the  greatness  of  the  privilege. 

Nor  did  he  abuse  it.  He  had  several  times  stood  the 
friend  of  Hog  Lane,  especially  in  contested  settling 
operations  with  the  Colonel's  clerk  and  treasurer,  Sam 
Squire.  Hog  Lane  did  not  cheat,  but  living  as  it  did  in 
a  kind  of  republic,  where  they  had  all  things  in  common, 
even  money,  the  chiefs  of  the  community  needed  to  be 
careful  as  to  their  accounts. 

Hal  nodded  to  this  good  wife  and  that  other,  busy 
about  her  afifairs,  but  he  did  not  pause  in  his  stride  till  he 
came  to  the  ancient  market  hall,  called  the  "  Hall  of 
Trials  "  because  the  produce  of  the  country  wives'  bas- 
kets who  entered  the  city  had  commonly  been  "  tried  "  or 
assessed  there  for  town  dues.  But  since  this  custom  took 
end,  which  was  when  stalls  and  private  booths  arose  in 
the  main  market-place  itself,  the  Trials'  Hall  in  Hog 
Lane  had  been  used  as  a  store-room  for  leather,  and 
part  of  it  served  on  Sundays  for  the  meeting-place  of  that 
sect  of  gloomy  sectarian  cobblers.  Here  too  the  elder 
men  often  worked  with  some  sense  of  community,  but 
mostly  in  silence.    If  any  were  moved  to  speech  his  com- 


24  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

rades  listened  to  him  without  interrupting  for  a  moment 
the  play  of  their  elbows.  But  there  was  no  loud  hum  of 
discussion  such  as  continually  arose  between  Presby- 
terians and  Independents.  They  were  the  Lord's  own 
peculiar  people,  and  sure  of  the  fact.  So  they  sewed, 
hammered,  and  waxed  in  silence,  revolving  and  apprais- 
ing each  other's  produce  much  as  the  city  marshal  had 
been  wont  to  do  with  the  market  baskets. 

To  Hal  Ludlow's  knock  at  the  inner  port  (for  the 
outer  gaped  wide  open)  a  deep  voice  responded, 
"  Brother,  come  thy  way,  in  the  Lord's  name !  " 

"  Peace  be  with  the  brethren !  "  said  the  young  man 
ritually. 

"  Peace  also  upon  thee,  brother,  and  on  thy  house !  " 
came  the  response. 

Hal  stepped  into  the  clear  light  of  the  many  windows 
which  opened  upon  the  court.  The  men  were  gathered 
under  the  archways  in  groups  of  two  and  three,  their 
tools  about  them,  jealously  using  the  last  hours  of  sun- 
light and  labour.  It  scarcely  seemed  that  any  lifted  a 
head,  but  Zachary  Elsegood,  their  preacher  and  leader- 
in-ordinary,  welcomed  the  incomer. 

"  What  brings  you  among  men  of  peace,  young  Hal 
Ludlow,  clanking  scabbard  and  tinkling  spurs  like  the 
Assyrian  captains  spoken  of  by  the  prophet  Ezekiel  ?  " 

"  I  have  news  for  you,"  he  answered  gravely.  The 
lank  and  lathy  men  continued  to  moisten  their  bristles 
and  tighten  their  threads  with  swift  convulsive  jerkings 
of  the  elbows,  grimly  spread-eagled  over  their  work, 
pulling  and  patting  and  hammering  against  time,  with  a 
jealous  God  watching  overhead  and  Oliver  waiting  for 
his  next  six  hundred  pairs  of  riding-boots,  wanted  in 
haste  for  the  new  Cambridgeshire  men  whose  need  was 
daily  more  pressing. 

"  Tell  thy  news,  brother,"  commanded  Zachary  Else- 
good.  "  Exalt  them  that  fear  the  Lord  and  bring  to 
naught  the  men  of  wrath." 


EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER  25 

"  The  men  of  wrath  do  exalt  themselves,"  said  the 
young  man,  seating  himself  on  a  table  where  skins  lay 
piled,  and  the  sharp  cuts  in  which  showed  for  what 
purpose  leather  had  been  shaped  there. 

"  The  Candishers  are  out  and  are  sweeping  down  upon 
us,  burning  and  slaying  as  they  come.  The  brethren 
at  Market  Deeping  are  at  their  wit's  end.  If  we  do  not 
do  something,  French  Drove  and  Gedney  Hill  will  be 
places  of  wailing  and  lamentation." 

All  the  men  were  now  looking  up,  their  eyes  gleaming 
murkily  out  of  the  growing  dusk. 

"  Say  that  again,  young  Master  Ludlow — French 
Drove  and  Gedney  Hill  I  think  you  said  ?  " 

"  I  did  say  so :  I  have  the  news  from  Levi  AUister  of 
the  Slepe  Troop." 

"  And  why  are  you  not  with  that  troop,  young  man  ? 
You  were  vaunting  it  enough  when  you  last  came  here — 
aye,  and  showing  us  our  duty  to  join — us  that  are  a 
peculiar  people !  " 

Ah,  why  not  indeed?  It  was  an  hard  matter  to  tell 
why,  but  Plal  Ludlow  took  firm  hold  upon  himself,  for 
he  saw  a  remote  chance.  "  They  have  cast  me  out !  " 
he  said  doggedly. 

"  Praise  the  Lord !  "  cried  Zachary  Elsegood,  thrusting 
his  beard  forward  truculently.  And  all  the  other  fen 
cobblers  cried  out  in  chorus,  "  Praise  the  Lord !  " 

For  to  be  cast  out  could  only  mean  one  thing  when  it 
happened  to  a  scion  of  the  house  of  Ludlow.  The  Lud- 
lows  were  of  the  fine  flour  of  the  godly,  and  particularly 
this  young  man,  who  took  not  after  his  father  the  Parlia- 
ment Commissioner,  but  was  like  Wiltshire  Harry  and  his 
son  Sir  Edmond,  an  Anabaptist  like  themselves — or  at 
least  would  be  when  the  heats  of  youth  were  over. 

Hal  decided  to  say  nothing  about  philandering  with 
pretty  Biddy  and  Bess  in  the  Tithe  House  garden.  He 
was,  according  to  Hog  Lane,  a  martyr  for  Hog  Lane 
principles.     Hal   only   hoped   they   would   not   put   the 


26  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

question  as  to  which  particular  doctrine  had  led  to  his 
outcasting.  He  had  suffered  for  the  Saints,  and  the 
extremists  of  them  looked  at  him  hopefully,  wondering 
if  he  might  not  be  useful  one  day  in  helping  to  break 
the  power  of  that  grasping  and  latitudinarian  chief, 
Zachary  Elsegood. 

For  it  is  characteristic  of  Puritanism,  both  English 
and  Scottish,  that  there  never  was  a  sect,  no  matter  how 
small  and  narrow,  but  contained  in  it  a  kernel  of  some- 
thing yet  smaller,  narrower,  and  more  bitter.  As  in 
the  Holy  Place  there  was  a  Holy  of  Holies,  so  in  the 
exalted  community  of  Hog  Lane  there  was  an  inner  sect 
of  Enthusiasts  ready  to  split  and  re-split  infinitesimally 
till  some  fiery  Gossip  Joan  should  define  the  future 
prospects  of  the  world's  salvation :  "  There  are  only 
John  and  me  that  are  of  the  Elect,  and  I'm  none  so  sure 
of  John !  " 

"  But  I  will  try  a  fall  with  them  myself,  these  plun- 
derers and  murderers,  if  I  can  get  any  to  follow  me  as 
far  as  Whittlesea.  I  know  where  they  are  lying  this 
night  and  to-morrow  they  will  be  too  full  fed  with  beef 
and  ale  to  stir  far.  Dick  Lucy  leads  them — Dick  the 
Dandy — ah,  with  a  dozen  or  two  willing  lads  we  could 
break  him  once  and  for  all.  Then  French  Drove  and 
Gedney  would  be  safe !  '' 

"  And  why  doth  not  your  great  Colonel  Cromwell 
make  them  safe?"  cried  Elsegood  suspiciously.  "He 
has  the  power  if  he  had  the  will." 

"  Surely,"  Hal  answered  readily,  "  but  he  must  wait 
his  orders  from  the  Association,  who  bid  him  remain 
to  protect  Ely  and  the  road  to  London.  We  of  the  Slepe 
Troop  were  all  ordered  out  to  Soham  yesterday !  " 

"  What  to  do  there  ? "  demanded  Zered  Tuby,  the 
leader  of  the  malcontents.  He  was  a  little  man,  slim 
and  active  though  prematurely  wrinkled,  his  hair  shining 
as  if  with  oil,  everything  about  him  sparkling,  his  eyes, 
his  teeth,  his  jet-black  locks,  in  spite  of  a  thick  coat  of 


EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER  27 

dust  which  covered  his  bare  hairy  arms,  his  leathern 
apron,  and  lay  in  curves  about  the  wrinkles  of  his  brow. 
For  Zered  was  of  that  sect  of  Anabaptists  who  believe 
that  having  once  bathed  in  the  waters  of  baptism,  it  is 
better  to  leave  well  alone. 

But  he  was  a  man  of  force  for  all  that,  and  Hal  an- 
swered him,  "  What  to  do  at  Soham,  Zered  Tuby — well, 
I  will  tell  you,  knowing  that  I  am  among  friends. 
There  are  friends  of  the  Wrath-men  out  that  way — 
Astley  of  Newmarket  and  others  I  need  not  put  a  name 
to " 

A  deep  growl  went  up.    "  No  need — we  know  them !  " 

"  Aye,  you  know  them,  but  though  I  am  not  good 
enough  for  the  Slepe  Troop  and  Colonel  Cromwell — the 
others  can  account  for  them  easily  enough.  It  is  Dick 
Lucy  and  the  folk  of  French  Drove  that  lie  on  my  mind. 
Lucy  knows  of  your  coming  hither  to  make  boots  for 
the  Parliament,  and  he  has  sworn  to  be  revenged." 

"  Well,  let  him  come  and  welcome,  Hog  Lane  will  be 
proud  to  see  him !  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  so  'twill,  well  spoke,  and  the  power  of  the 
Lord  be  upon  you,  Zachary  Elsegood !  " 

"  Ah,  men,"  said  the  young  tempter  on  the  table,  as 
he  swung  his  legs  and  watched  them  furtively,  "  Dick 
Lucy  will  not  risk  himself  at  Hog  Lane.  But  he  has 
sworn  to  sweep  the  fens  clear  of  your  kinsfolk.  You, 
Zered,  you  have  a  father  at  home  and  two  sisters,  you, 
Faithful-unto-Death  Jackson,  have  a  mother,  a  brother, 
and  a  brother's  wife " 

"  Aye,  aye,"  cried  Zered,  throwing  his  rolled  leather 
apron  down  with  a  bang,  "  we  have  all  kinsfolk  out  at 
Gedney  Hill — I  more  than  most,  but  pray  tell  us  how  we 
are  to  help.  We  cannot  hunt  down  a  band  of  mounted 
men,  with  these  poor  legs  of  ours  crippled  by  the  lap- 
stone." 

"  If  any  of  you  can  ride  I  can  find  you  horses,  not  yet 
out  of  my  father's  hand — Kentish  breed  and  good  Essex 


28  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

stock  from  Danbury  and  Little  Baddow.  Henry  Speak- 
man  bred  and  broke  them.    Arms  too  I  can  find."   • 

"  No  need — arms  are  not  lacking  in  Hog  Lane,"  said 
Zered  Tuby,  "  find  you  the  horses  and  we  will  find  the 
arms.  Though  we  are  men  of  peace,  we  will  defend  our 
own  borders  and  put  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  alien !  " 

Zered  assumed  command  of  the  gathering  and  as  the 
twiligiit  was  now  so  dark  that  none  could  continue  to 
work,  all  had  gathered  about  him  silent  and  listening. 

"  Bid  the  young  men  come  in,  also  the  foreman,  Wolsey 
Clarke.    We  shall  let  them  know  our  mind." 

The  rules  of  Hog  Lane  were  strict.  The  'prentices  to 
the  mystery  worked  all  the  morning  with  their  own 
masters  to  whom  they  were  bound  and  in  whose  house 
they  abode.  But  during  the  afternoon  they  received 
instruction  from  a  senior  set  over  them,  which  duty  the 
fathers  of  the  craft  took  in  turns.  Thus  the  young  men 
learned  self-reliance  and  their  elders  could  discuss  the 
high  matters  of  the  community  behind  the  closed  doors 
of  the  Market  Hall. 

They  trooped  in,  three  or  four  score  young  fellows  so 
lithe  and  limber  that  the  very  sight  of  them  set  Hal 
Ludlow's  mouth  watering.  With  a  few  dozen  of  these 
young  sedge-cocks  he  could  soon  be  as  good  a  captain  as 
Harry  Cromwell. 

But  he  said  nothing,  only  watched  with  eagerness 
as  they  ranged  themselves  along  the  wall  opposite  the 
windows.  They  listened  while  Zered  Tuby  told  them 
of  the  raid  which  threatened  the  villages  where  they  had 
played  and  the  kindly  folk  whom  they  loved.  It  was 
hard  to  be  set  to  making  boot-soles  in  such  stirring 
times,  and  in  spite  of  all  warnings  and  forbiddings  the 
Hog  Lane  band  of  'prentices  lost  one  or  two  forward 
lads  every  muster  day  to  Manchester's  foot  or  Colonel 
Cromwell's  horse. 

"  Now,  Wolsey  Clarke,  you  that  were  Scout-master 
to  the  great  Gustavus,  you  know  our  lads  as  none  else 


EXIT  THE  PHILANDERER  29 

can — tell  us  which  of  them  can  ride.  All  can  fight,  but 
not  all  can  ride  attd  fight." 

"  I  will  answer,"  said  the  burly  giant  Wolsey  Clarke, 
"  all  can  ride  and  all  can  fight.  I  do  not  say  that  they 
will  turn  and  pivot  at  a  review  like  the  Swedish  guard 
royal.  But  for  a  charge  and  a  brush  with  Lucy's  Can- 
dishers  I  warrant  them.  I  would  that  I  could  go  with 
them,  but  a  wooden-legged  man  is  no  man  in  a  saddle — 
not  at  least  in  a  campaign  which,  after  all,  is  only  a  dash- 
and-be-done  with  it !  " 

Zachary  Elsegood,  Zered  Tuby,  and  Wolsey  Clarke 
resolved  themselves  into  a  committee  of  selection,  and 
within  half  an  hour  Hal  Ludlow  found  himself  giving 
instructions  to  as  likely  a  set  of  young  fellows  as  ever 
joined  a  foray  or  threw  leg  across  saddle  leather. 

The  horses  were  to  be  taken  from  the  stables  at  ten 
of  the  clock.  All  the  town  would  then  be  bedded  down, 
and  Hal  would  see  that  the  grooms  were  out  of  the  way. 
For  the  present  he  would  say  nothing  to  his  father.  If 
the  matter  turned  out  well,  he  would  have  earned  the 
thanks  of  the  Houses — if  otherwise — it  was  most  un- 
likely that  his  father  would  ever  again  be  troubled  either 
with  horses  or  son. 


Ill 

HOG  LANE 

"fT^HEY  do  not  know  it  in  Hog  Lane  and  it  will 
I  be  none  of  your  business  to  tell  them,  but  I 
have  ridden  in  harness  before  this  night — aye, 
and  seen  towns  taken  and  streets  ablaze — God  forgive  me 
— I  was  then  an  unsanctified  vessel  of  wrath.  But  you 
will  be  none  the  worse  of  Zered  Tuby's  advice  among 
all  these  boys !  " 

They  were  now  riding  well  clear  of  Ely,  and  the  waste 
of  Chatteris  fens  spread  before  them  clear  to  Stan- 
ground  and  Bedford  Old  Level.  Behind  them  the  cathe- 
dral towers  still  loomed  up  against  a  pale  sky.  They 
rode  freely  on  into  the  night.  Hamlets  were  few  and 
small  in  that  marshy  country  and  the  inhabitants  little 
inclined  to  curiosity.  The  trampling  of  horses  was  no 
uncommon  sound,  for  they  were  still  so  close  in  to  Ely 
that  the  shadow  of  Colonel  Cromwell  seemed  to  cover  the 
land.  The  enemy  would  never  harm  them  while  he  kept 
watch  yonder.  Steadily  two  by  two  they  rode  with 
greater  distance  between  them  than  trained  cavalry  would 
have  used,  only  tailing  out  a  little  also  to  the  rear,  where 
the  men  were  placed  who  had  not  yet  got  well  into 
touch  with  their  horses.  Still,  in  spite  of  all,  the  march 
was  proceeding  creditably,  and,  if  they  were  not  quite 
the  Slepe  Troop,  at  least  they  were  of  similar  materials 
and  fully  minded  to  meet  foray  by  foray.  Their  disposi- 
tion may  be  judged  by  the  short  dialogue  which  took  place 
in  the  third  rank  between  Egbert  Oaks  and  David  Pas- 
cal, bold  'prentices  both  and  Hog  Laners  to  their  very 
marrow. 

30 


HOG  LANE  81 

"  This  Lucy  has  sworn  to  sweep  the  fens  of  us," 
whispered  Egbert  Oaks,  who  sat  his  horse  as  if  he  were 
part  of  it. 

"  Hum !  "  quoth  Pascal,  "  we  shall  see  when  we  meet 
how  he  handles  the  broom.  He  may  find  something 
stift'cr  than  dirt  to  try  his  hand  upon,  as  Harry  Crom- 
well sent  him  w^ord." 

"  They  be  going  Gedney  way — Lord  send  they  do  not 
fash  my  old  mother — what  think  you — would  they  touch 
hoar  hairs? " 

"Lord  help  them  if  they  do,  hoar  hair  or  brown!" 
responded  Pascal  fiercely.  "  I  say,  Egbert,  there  was 
nowt  said  about  the  giving  of  quarter  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word." 

"Thank  God!" 

Passing  March,  they  skirted  the  reedy  sedges  bordering 
the  great  Mere,  keeping  to  the  drier  eastern  side,  and  so 
rode  straight  for  New  Bridge  where  the  road  crosses  into 
the  Droves.  The  fenmen  were  now  in  their  own  country 
and  knew  their  way  as  Zered  Tuby  said  "  by  the  crowing 
of  the  cocks."  "  Broad  Drove  rooster  do  sing  at  mid- 
night! "  a  wise  rider  averred.  "  Lincoln  Leyburn's  have 
got  a  pea  in  his  throat.  Hear  to  him !  "  And  he  would 
have  imitated  the  effect  but  for  Hal  Ludlow's  curt  order 
to  cease  fooling.  All  was  now  well-kenned  ground. 
They  discussed  where  they  would  find  the  enemy  quar- 
tered. The  twenty  miles  had  been  eaten  up  by  good 
direct  leading  and  fresh  horses. 

French  Drove  lay  before  them,  and  the  road  across  the 
fens  by  which  would  come  the  Wisbeach  men  became 
clear  to  their  eyes  in  the  dewy  glimmer  of  the  summer 
night.  A  mist  slight  but  searching  lay  on  the  fens — the 
shaking  mist,  the  men  called  it. 

"  Out  with  the  strong  waters,"  they  whispered  to 
Zered  Tuby,  "  or  in  half  an  hour  we  shall  all  be  quaking 
like  aspens." 

"  Aye,"  grunted  the  little  shiny-locked  man,  producing 


32  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

a  narrow-necked  stone  jar,  "  us  have  been  too  long  in 
Hog  Lane.  Other  times  we  could  ha'  watched  all  night 
by  Broad  Mere  for  ducks  and  been  no  whit  the  worse, 
but  now  a  whiff  sets  us  sneezing."  And  he  passed  the 
bottle  round. 

"  One  firm  tot,  lads,  and  no  more.  David  Pascal,  you 
get  none  next  time.     I  heard  your  throat  gurgle  twice." 

•'  It  were  so  sharp  it  caught  my  breath,"  the  young 
man  explained,  not  without  a  privy  grin,  "  but  I  do 
admit  that  it  makes  a  man  rare  and  comfortable  under 
the  belt  such  a  night  as  this." 

Two  young  French  Drovers  were  sent  forward  to  spy 
out  their  village  and  returned  with  the  news  that  nothing 
had  been  heard  there  of  the  raiders,  except  that  many 
Gedney  families  had  crossed  into  "  the  shire  "  for  greater 
safety — the  Candishers  under  Dick  Lucy  being  notoriously 
given  to  the  burning  of  farms  and  the  mishandling  of 
women.  Abel  Kesteven  had  been  hung  in  his  own  byre- 
court  for  refusing  to  guide  them  in  search  of  treasure. 
They  had  tilted  up  the  poor  gaffer's  own  cart,  hung  him 
to  the  shafts,  and  driven  off  the  horses.  But  they  had 
not  waited  to  see  him  fairly  dead.  So  by  last  accounts, 
Abel,  cut  down  in  time,  had  been  resuscitated,  and  with 
no  more  than  an  ugly  red  rim  about  his  neck,  was  still 
to  be  seen  refreshing  himself  with  pudding  and  double 
Huntingdon  ale. 

Every  rider  was  now  alert  for  Gedney  Hill.  For  it 
was  a  hill,  or  rather  a  ridge,  no  more  by  comparison  than 
a  vein  upon  the  back  of  a  man's  hand,  but  in  the  eyes 
of  the  fen  folk  a  veritable  mountain  chain.  It  had  a  top 
indeed — that  was  incontestable — and  as  they  rode  along 
the  Lincoln  track,  it  came  into  sight.  The  square  tower 
of  the  church,  from  which  the  roofs  ran  red-tiled  and 
many-angled  down  each  slope.  "  Gedney  Hill  at  last !  " 
The  Hog  Laners  drew  breath  with  a  gasp  of  relief.  At 
least  it  had  not  been  burnt  like  the  other  villages  of  the 
Low  Levels.    No  hither-and-thither  of  torches — no  flam- 


HOG  LANE  33 

ing  stacks  and  stack-yards — no  pour  of  startled  fugitives 
running  wild  into  the  night.  Had  Hog  Lane  been  de- 
ceived? Had  its  good  faith  been  played  upon?  Was 
this  a  plot  to  get  them  to  commit  themselves  by  waging 
war  a  score  of  miles  from  home? 

A  growing  uneasiness  manifested  itself  among  the 
troop,  but  Zered  Tuby  bade  them  be  prepared.  The 
enemy,  according  to  Scripture,  would  come  like  a  thief 
in  the  night.  And  as  if  to  prove  his  words  out  of  the 
rough  grass  ahead  rose  the  figures  of  a  dozen  human 
beings.  The  locks  of  pistols  clicked  back.  The  matches 
for  the  muskets  were  blown  alight. 

"  Hold  there !  "  cried  Hal  Ludlow,  just  in  time — 
seeing  clear  under  the  glimmer  of  the  low-lying  star-dust 
and  into  the  summer  night  which  is  never  wholly  dark 
on  these  east-looking  levels.  "  Do  not  fire  a  shot,  or 
we  may  bring  the  whole  wasp's  nest  upon  us.  Gipsies, 
I  tell  you,  not  Cavaliers !  "  And  he  interrogated  rapidly 
the  leader  of  the  band.  The  troop  surrounded  them,  and 
yet  they  seemed  in  no  ways  dismayed,  though  the 
appearance  of  mounted  men  suddenly  coming  upon 
them  out  of  the  blue  deeps  of  the  night  must  have  been 
far  from  reassuring. 

"  Whence  do  you  come,  and  whither  are  you  go- 
ing?" 

The  bearded  patriarch  with  the  flowing  locks  who  led 
them  turned  his  head  about  the  circle  of  crowding  horse- 
men. He  regarded  the  stars  over  their  heads.  He  lifted 
up  his  arms  with  a  large  vague  gesture,  a  royal  gesture, 
that  of  a  king  without  a  country,  and  announced  in  a 
voice  guttural  and  harsh :  "  From  anywhere  to  anywhere, 
my  lord  the  soldier,  we  are  gitanos.  We  go  on,  march, 
march,  marching  till  we  die." 

Hal  sounded  them  as  to  other  troops  of  soldiers  whom 
they  might  have  fallen  in  with. 

"  Aye,"  came  from  a  girl  who  stood  close  by  Hal 
Ludlow's  stirrup  gazing  upward  at  him,  as  if  trying  to 


34  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

read  something  out  of  the  figure  silhouetted  darkly 
against  the  indigo  vault  and  the  fading  stars,  "  aye, 
master  soldier,  I  saw  them  watching  with  matches 
burning  just  like  yours.  I  crept  up  close.  It  was  on  the 
wood-edge  across  the  valley  below  the  church,  and  I 
heard  one  say  that  they  would  attack  at  daybreak.  They 
would  see  better  what  they  were  doing,  and  then  the  fen 
folk  would  not  escape  for  they  could  be  ridden  down  in 
the  open." 

You  should  have  seen  the  men  of  Hog  Lane  gather  up 
their  bridle-reins  at  the  word. 

"  Come  and  guide  us,"  said  Hal,  reaching  out  his  foot 
in  the  stirrup.  The  girl  took  it  as  a  bird  does  a  perch, 
and  in  a  moment  was  beside  him  in  the  saddle,  her  little 
hands  clasping  his  broad  sword  belt. 

"  Open  out  there,"  he  ordered,  "  let  the  rest  go.  The 
girl  will  show  us  how  to  overtake  them.  She  can  ride 
back  with  us  when  this  job's  done.  We  shall  do  her  no 
harm !  " 

"  No,  we  be  good  Christian  men,"  Zered  assured  the 
tribe  with  quite  unwonted  amenity,  but  the  chief  threw 
back  his  head  and  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  Aye,"  he  said,  "  we  are  ignorant  men — poor  wander- 
ing pagans — but  we  know  you  Christians.  We  have  bled 
under  your  Christian  scourges.  We  have  sat  in  your 
Christian  stocks  and  tasted  the  goodness  of  your 
Christian  mob.  As  for  the  girl,  she  is  none  of  ours — 
she  can  please  herself.  If  she  will  guide  you  to  kill 
your  fellow  Christians,  so  much  the  better  for  the  foot- 
marchers." 

"  Go  your  ways,"  said  Hal.  "  This  is  no  time  or  place 
for  uncivil  tongues !  " 

"  Let  him  go,"  whispered  a  voice  from  behind ;  "  the 
grandad  hath  been  tried  to-day — twice  overhauled  for 
money  by  soldiers  and  his  poor  duds  shaken  out  like  an 
empty  bag." 

Hal  produced  a  handful  of  small  change  and  passed  it 


HOG  LANE  35 

over  to  the  chief,  overreaching  a  number  of  eagerly 
clutching  hands. 

"  There,  father,  -wish,  us  luck  and  part  friends." 

The  Hog  Laners  eager  to  be  gone  opened  out  and  the 
little  band  of  outcasts  rambled  off  in  the  same  listless 
way  as  they  had  come  into  view.  The  hazard  of  the  road 
lay  behind  and  before  them.  All  to  them  was  equal. 
No  glance  towards  the  small  figure  caught  up  behind 
Hal  Ludlow.  None  indeed  wasted  anywhere — heads  a 
little  bowed,  feet  planted  to  go  forward,  and  so  under 
the  gaze  of  the  silent  troop  forward  and  onward  they 
went  till  the  dark  grey  fen  swallowed  them  up. 

The  dawn-wind  began  to  rise  up  out  of  the  east,  dry 
and  brusque.  So  it  did  every  morning  in  Kesteven  and 
the  Holland  fens.  The  Spalding  men  called  it  "  the  wind 
that  sharpens  the  nose."  It  certainly  gave  them  that 
rascal  accent  which  they  carried  all  the  way  to  New 
England  with  them  in  the  bad  years  before  Cromwell  and 
the  Long  Parliament. 

The  Hog  Laners  defiled  across  the  slope  of  Gedney 
Hill.  A  rugged  country  lay  beneath  them,  coarse  bushes 
of  willow,  clumps  of  elder  and  birch,  mixed  with  occa- 
sional scrub  oak  and  Royston  hazel. 

"  There !  "  whispered  the  maid  behind  Hal,  shooting 
an  arm  under  his  bridle  hand  and  pointing  to  the  eastern 
corner  of  the  scrub.  "  They  are  hiding  yonder,  but  they 
will  attack  at  dawn !    I  heard  them  say  so." 

Hal  turned  in  his  saddle  and  addressed  the  Hog 
Laners. 

"  We  might  attack  them,  but  they  would  hear  our 
horses  and  make  ofif.  We  would  never  track  them  in 
that  brush  wood.  We  could  not  charge  them  there. 
Better  wait  here  on  their  flank  with  the  advantage  of 
the  hill  and  go  at  them  as  they  come." 

There  was  some  threatening  of  discord.  For  the  Hog 
Laners  were  very  near  their  old  homes,  and  they  yearned 
to  dismount  and  fight  the  cottages  and  cabbage  gardens. 


36  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

each  man  for  his  mother,  his  sister,  or  his  rem.oter 
kin. 

But  it  was  clear  that  the  advantage  was  all  with  the 
attacking  party,  and  by  dismounting  they  would  throw 
away  that  advantage. 

"  You  shall  do  as  you  are  bidden,  Jekel  Ransome,  and 
you  Egbert  Oaks — we  shall  keep  your  mother's  house 
better  by  never  letting  the  Candishers  come  near  it." 

Such  was  the  order  of  Zered  Tuby  who,  though  revolu- 
tionary in  peace  times,  believed  in  supporting  authority 
when  it  came  to  the  clash  of  arms. 

"  Thank  you,"  whispered  Hal,  sincerely  grateful ;  "  I 
shall  not  forget." 

"  Oh,  Hog  Lane  is  all  right,  only  pigs  and  pig-skin  need 
managing.  A  leetle  farther  over  to  give  the  horses  time 
to  find  their  stride.  So — now,  lads,  be  ready.  Fear  the 
Lord  and  naught  else.  The  enemy  shall  be  as  chaff  be- 
fore the  wind  when  Hog  Lane  comes  to  prove  its  arms. 
The  dead  praise  not  the  Lord,  neither  them  that  go 
down  to  the  place  of  silence.  See  that  ye  serve  Him 
with  lusty  strokes  upon  the  crowns  of  His  enemies. "- 

It  is  a  fine  thing,  to  be  sure.  Hog  Lane  was  the  Lord's 
people,  elect  and  peculiar.  The  Lucy  raiders  were  His 
enemies,  already  accursed  and  as  good  as  dead.  The 
worst  part  was  done  already.  As  Hog  Lane  would  have 
expressed  it,  the  matter  "  came  to  ripeness  "  sooner  than 
they  had  anticipated.  A  small  hand  darted  again  under 
Hal's  armpit.  "  Yonder,"  the  girl  whispered,  "  they  are 
mounting !  " 

And  she  was  right.  Matches  glimmered  in  the  dusk 
of  the  alder  coppices.  Dark  shadows  moved  cautiously 
out  and  officers  went  hither  and  thither  ordering  the 
march.  They  were  early  and  there  was  plenty  of  time. 
They  would  surround  the  village  before  dawn  so  that 
none  could  escape. 

Hal  Ludlow  had  no  mind  to  charge  with  that  girl 
bumping  on  his  saddle.     It  would  spoil  his  sword-play 


HOG  LANE  37 

completely  merely  to  have  to  think  of  such  a  thing.  He 
might  lop  a  child's  limb — faugh! — and  never  get  the 
thing  out  of  his  mind  till  the  day  of  his  death. 

So  he  pointed  to  the  square  church  tower  on  the  hill 
of  Gedney,  now  growing  more  distinct  against  an  amber 
and  primrose  sky. 

"  See,  little  one,"  he  said,  "  go  up  yonder  and  as  soon 
as  you  hear  us  shout,  ring  the  bell,  or  if  you  cannot,  find 
someone  that  will.  Where  does  the  sexton  live,  Dave 
Pascal?  Next  but  one  on  this  side  of  the  church — you 
hear,  little  one.     Now  down  with  you." 

He  held  his  foot  well  out  and  the  girl  glided  down  like 
a  serpent.  She  sped  away  into  the  dawn,  her  hair  float- 
ing behind  her,  and  Hal  drew  a  long  breath  and  then 
expelled  it  from  his  lungs  with  relish. 

"  That  was  a  relief,  indeed,"  he  said  to  his  lieutenant 
Zered.  And  he  tightened  his  belt  a  couple  of  holes  after 
pulling  up  his  coat  on  either  side  so  that  his  arms  might 
have  free  play.  Hog  Lane,  cobbler  fashion,  spat  in  his 
palm. 

"  Fall  on — no  pistol  shooting — that's  Cromwell's  way. 
Drive  the  horses  straight  upon  them  and  let  the  steel  talk. 
Steady  there  on  the  left.    Now  let  them  have  it !  " 

The  enemy  were  just  beginning  to  climb  the  little  hill, 
but  the  Hog  Laners  did  not  even  give  them  time  to 
change  front.  The  sun  rose  out  of  the  fen  and  tinged 
with  red  the  swords  of  the  Hog  Laners  as  they  flashed 
in  the  air.  When  they  had  fallen  once,  they  glowed  no 
more.  They  went  through  the  enemy  as  fire  through 
stubble,  even  as  Zered  had  prophesied.  But  the  clang  of 
their  meeting  and  the  horrid  noise  of  men  and  horses 
rolling  on  the  ground  together  in  a  clatter  of  accoutre- 
ments were  drowned  in  the  deep  universal  shout  of  the 
Hog  Laners.  Instantly  the  bell  of  the  church  clanged 
wildly  out.  Hal  was  seeking  out  Dick  Lucy,  whom  he 
could  see  trying  to  rally  his  men,  but  as  he  cut  and 
slashed  a  way  to  him  he  wondered  if  "that  wisp"  had 


38  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

found  the  sexton  or  if  she  were  at  that  moment  leaping 
and  pulling  at  the  bell-rope  up  in  the  tower.  Then,  still 
fighting  his  best,  he  wondered  why  he  should  wonder. 
What  strange  things  went  on  in  men's  heads  when  their 
eyes  and  hands  were  busy! 

But  the  Candishers  had  no  coherence.  They  were 
raffish  fellows  mostl3^  gathered  from  nowhere  and  any- 
where by  the  hope  of  plunder — bull-baiters  from  wicked 
Stamford  Town  and  deserters  from  Lynn  Leaguer — Dick, 
Tom,  and  hungry  Harry  from  the  loafers'  corner  of  every 
town  and  hamlet  in  the  ten  eastern  counties.  Who  were 
they  to  stand  against  Hog  Lane?  Every  man  of  them 
knew  that  if  he  died  he  would,  according  to  a  belief  so 
universal  as  to  compel  his  own  reluctant  consent,  go 
straight  to  Hell.  As  for  Hog  Lane,  the  Lord  of  Hosts 
was  its  sun  and  shield,  and  its  welcome  into  Heaven 
would  be  that  of  good  and  brave  soldiers  going  home. 

Only  Dick  Lucy  of  Charicote  and  his  man  Wallop  stood 
firm,  and  when  at  last  Hal  Ludlow  reached  them  they 
kept  grimly  together.  Hal  attacked  alone,  for  Hog  Lane, 
not  yet  broken  to  discipline,  was  pursuing  the  fleeing 
foe  across  the  levels.  He  was  therefore  in  some  con- 
siderable jeopardy,  for  both  men  pulled  their  pistols  upon 
him  as  they  saw  him  come.  With  a  swerve  of  his  rein 
he  turned  Hereward  aside  just  in  time  to  spoil  their  aim. 
But  Wallop  drew  another  pistol,  one  called  a  "  snap 
haunch,''  from  his  holster,  and  it  came  very  near  being 
all  over  with  the  Captain  of  the  Hog  Laners  in  the  very 
hour  of  his  triumph. 

But  even  as  the  trigger  finger  of  the  servitor  Wallop 
crooked  about  the  pull,  and  a  man's  life  hung  on  the  fall 
of  the  dog,  a  loud  report  startled  the  horses.  Wallop 
swayed  in  his  saddle  and  fell  prone,  while  Dick  Lucy, 
smitten  on  the  casque  by  Hal's  sword,  was  beaten  to  the 
ground,  where  presently  he  yielded  himself  prisoner,  his 
wits  still  wandering,  as  it  seemed,  for  he  stood  disarmed, 
rubbing  his  steel  cap  from  which  the  fair  ringlets  hung  to 


HOG  LANE  39 

his  shoulders,  and  muttering,  "  It  was  a  girl,  or  the 
devil  in  the  shape  of  a  girl — she  did  it !  " 

The  next  moment  Hal  felt  something  softly  familiar 
behind  him.  His  belt  was  grasped  and  a  voice  said  in  his 
ear: 

"  Anybody  can  pull  any  old  bell-rope,  but  I  got  the 
sexton's  gun  and  came  back  as  fast  as  I  could  run.  HI 
had  not,  he  would  have  popped  you!  Good  luck  I 
came !  " 

"  Good  luck  indeed,  little  one,  and  thank  you,"  quoth 
Hal  carelessly  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  don't  believe  you  have  ever  looked 
at  me.     I  am  not  so  very  httle." 

Hal  Ludlow  hastily  turned  his  head  and  looked. 

"  Great  God,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it's  a  woman !  " 

"  Twelve  pence  for  swearing.  Captain ! "  grinned 
Zered  Tuby  as  he  rode  up  with  a  couple  of  horses  in 
leash  behind  and  the  battle  sweat  not  yet  dry  on  him. 


IV 

"FOR  THE  HOUSES  AND  THE  LORD!" 

HOG  LANE  had  won  a  wonderful  victory,  but  then 
the  Lord  was  the  Lord  and  Hog  Lane  was  Hog 
Lane.  There  were  no  prisoners  except  Dick 
Lucy,  and  in  his  direction  many  angry  glances  were 
directed.  So  Saul  had  spared  Agag  of  Amalek,  and  all 
Hog  Laners  knew  what  had  come  of  that.  Still,  the 
Captain  had  passed  his  word — they  could  not  get  behind 
the  fact.  After  all  it  was  his  own  affair.  Right  valiantly 
Hog  Lane  had  done  its  part,  smiting  the  Amalekites  hip 
and  thigh,  but  to  be  accurate,  more  particularly  on  the 
head.  There  was  great  shearing  of  love  locks  that  morn- 
ing, and  the  Candishers  would  learn  to  leave  Gedney 
Hill  alone  from  that  day  forth.  They  had  gotten  their 
"  kail  through  the  reek  " — an  instalment  on  account  pend- 
ing full  settlement  on  Gainsborough  day,  when  Charles 
Cavendish  "  of  the  best  blood  in  England  "  was  to  be 
"  thrust  through  by  an  officer  of  ours,"  deftly  done  too, 
between  the  short  ribs,  and  no  more  said  about  it  than  if 
he  had  been  a  common  clown  caught  in  arms  against  the 
Parliament. 

Plunder  too  accrued  to  Hog  Lane — to  each  man  a 
horse  or  two,  some  saddled  and  accoutremented  for  war, 
some  of  the  cart-horse  breed,  very  useful,  and  saddle 
beasts  not  a  few  laden  with  booty  and  provend. 

Ely  clocks  were  striking  noon  with  much  lingering 
clangour  when  a  weary  cavalcade  rode  up  to  the  great 
open  gate  of  the  Tithing  Yard.  Hal  Ludlow  came  first, 
his  captive  behind  him,  solidly  guarded  by  a  detach- 
ment from  Hog  Lane  under  Zered  Tuby.     For  though 

40 


"FOR  THE  HOUSES  AND  THE  LORD!"     41 

none  of  the  troop  which  had  ridden  through  French 
Drove  to  Gedney  Hill  feared  the  face  of  man,  some 
of  them  made  an  exception  in  favour  of  Colonel  Crom- 
well. 

The  Tithing  House  family  were  just  sitting  down  to 
dinner  and  at  the  sound  of  the  shod  feet  of  horses,  always 
the  sweetest  music  in  his  ears,  Colonel  Cromwell  came 
forth  and  stood  on  the  steps  with  a  white  napkin  in  his 
hand.  Bridget  and  Bess  ran  to  the  window  and  stood 
there  waving  surreptitious  welcomes  directly  over  their 
father's  head.  Evidently  something  had  happened  and 
perhaps,  who  knew,  they  would  get  back  their  gossip 
Hal  again. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Colonel,  glowering  down  upon  the 
cavalcade,  on  the  prisoner  and  the  swarthy  assured 
countenances  of  Hog  Lane  on  its  borrowed  horses. 
"  Well,  sirrah,  what  may  this  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means.  Colonel,"  answered  Hal,  "  that  by  the  help 
of  these  good  fellows  I  have  smitten  the  Candishers, 
destroyed  four  troops  of  them  under  Captain  Richard 
Lucy  of  Charlcote  whom  I  now  present  to  you." 

"  He  is  all  that  remains — pray  look  at  him  well,"  put 
in  Zered  Tuby  who  hated  being  silent  when  another  man 
talked.  "  We  smote  every  Amalekite,  yea,  with  the 
sword  of  the  Lord  and  Gideon,  we  smote  them ! " 

"  So,"  said  Colonel  Cromwell,  turning  an  eye  upon 
him,  "  and  speaking  thus  and  fighting  thus,  why  have 
you  not  taken  service  with  me?" 

"  We  are  men  of  Gedney,  dwellers  in  Hog  Lane.  We 
make  boots  and  shoes  for  your  armies.  But  for  us  you 
would  ride  bare-toes  to  stirrup-iron.  No  man  can  do 
more  than  one  thing  well  at  a  time." 

"  Ah,"  said  Cromwell,  "  Anabaptists — I  understand. 
So,  Master  Hal,  you  have  done  your  deed  and  captured 
your  man.  I  thought  you  took  the  matter  somewhat 
calmly  yesterday.  You  had  a  scheme  at  the  back  of 
your   head — an   excellent   thing   to  have!     Well,    take 


42  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

your  prisoner  to  Mr.  Hicks  at  the  Bridewell  and  bid  him 
care  for  Master  Lucy  along  with  the  other  exchangers. 
Here — give  him  my  authority  (he  scribbled  some  words 
in  a  notebook,  tore  out  the  leaf  and  handed  it  to  Hal), 
and  then  if  you  will  come  back  to  dinner  we  will  talk 
over  the  affair  of  the  Slepe  Troop — also  you  will  tell  me 
of  this  most  welcome  riddance  which  the  Lord  hath 
wrought  at  Gedney.  Give  Him  the  glory,  Hal — I  missed 
that  point  in  your  first  report." 

"  Colonel,"  said  Hal,  "  by  your  leave  I  shall  call  on 
you  to-night — this  afternoon  even,  but  I  must  first 
render  back  these  riding  horses  to  my  father,  and  then 
to  thank  my  good  friends  of  Hog  Lane  for  their  valiance 
— for  without  them  I  could  have  done  nothing,  and  by 
this  time  all  the  northern  Droves  would  have  been 
wasted,  farm,  cottage,  and  hamlet." 

"  Do  so,  then,  friend  Hal.  My  service  to  your  father, 
and  tell  him  not  to  be  too  severe  with  you  as  to  the 
horses.     I  shall  account  with  him  for  any  losses." 

"  Us  can  do  that  without  'ee.  Muster  Crum'ell,"  said 
Zered,  "  there  be  naught  but  one  mare  that  grit  Roger 
Tebbut  rode  overly  hard  down  hill,  and  we  have  taken 
horses  sufficient  to  horse  all  Hog  Lane  twice  over !  " 

"  So  much  the  better,  friend  Anabaptist,"  said  Crom- 
well dryly,  "  certes,  it  seems  to  me  that  one  might  find 
better  employment  for  you  than  sewing  shoe  leather, 
pricking  with  elsins,  and  hammering  on  boot  heels." 

"  And  pray  who  made  you  the  boots  in  which  you 
stand  up?  Any  complaints  about  them?  None!  And 
the  last  you  paid  so  dear  for  in  London  Cheap?  How 
many  times  did  you  lose  twelve  pence  by  condemning 
them  unseemly  before  the  troop  ?  " 

The  grim  features  of  the  Discipliner  relaxed  and  he 
shook  a  forefinger  at  Zered. 

"  Sam  Squire  hath  been  talking,  friend,  I  see.  It  was 
only  once,  and  that  for  a  word  which  I  might  have  passed 
over  in  a  trooper." 


"  FOR  THE  HOUSES  AND  THE  LORD  !  "     43 

The  girls  overhead  craned  their  necks  and  were  con- 
sumed with  the  envy  of  knowing  what  was  the  word  their 
father  had  let  escape  him. 

"  Lucky  we  are  not  so  tempted/'  whispered  Bess,  "  if 
these  fine  big  words  were  forbidden  us,  I  declare  I  should 
swear  myself  into  bankruptcy!" 

Hog  Lane  clattered  out  of  the  presence  after  a  grudg- 
ing salute.  For  Hog  Lane's  did  no  eye  service  and 
Colonel  Cromwell  smiled  a  well-satisfied  smile  as  he  saw 
them  go.  Here  was  plenty  of  good  material  yet 
untouched,  and  he  knew  how  to  use  it.  Naturally 
he  sympathised  with  all  sectarians,  all  outstanders, 
all  thinkers  for  themselves,  insisting  upon  uniformity 
only  in  the  matter  of  the  regiments  and  their  regula- 
tions. 

"  A  clever  young  fellow,  this  Hal  Ludlow,"  he 
meditated,  "  with  a  little  high-mindedness  which  in 
another  might  be  insolence,  but  directed  in  a  godly 
fashion  may  be  of  much  service.  The  lad  is  no  mealy- 
mouthed  prater,  and  I  suppose  he  will  end  by  getting 
his  troop.  He  is  young,  but  already  he  hath  proved 
himself.  I  think  no  worse  of  him  that  he  hath  an  eye 
for  an  honest  maid.  It  were  no  bad  thing — well,  well — 
we  shall  see — what  we  shall  see." 

And  so  smiling  and  muttering  the  great  man  went 
back  to  the  dinner  which  his  dame  was,  with  flustered 
patience,  keeping  hot  for  him. 

Meanwhile  Hal  Ludlow  had  his  own  thoughts,  also 
matters  on  hand  which  could  not  wait.  He  rode  through 
the  streets  to  Hog  Lane,  the  men  following  close  behind. 
He  found  that  narrow  thoroughfare  blocked  and 
guarded.    Half  Ely  was  crowding  about  the  entrance. 

"  Way  there,"  he  shouted,  "  Colonel  Cromwell's 
orders !  " 

A  path  was  made  and  the  men  and  their  captures 
passed  on  through  a  turmoil  of  admiration  and  jealousy. 
But  the  son  of  the  Commissioner  was  a  known  man  and 


44  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

the  name  of  the  First  Ironside,  Oliver,  governor  of  Ely 
City,  carried  far  even  in  these  very  early  days. 

Into  Hog  Lane  then  rode  Hal,  his  prisoner,  and  the 
troop.  They  came  into  a  sound  of  singing,  and  before 
them  they  saw  Zachary  Elsegood  leading  a  psalm.  The 
'prentices  hastily  formed  up  at  a  word  from  Hal,  and  of 
their  own  initiative  took  off  their  helmets,  hanging  them 
on  the  saddle-bow  in  front  of  them. 

"Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  How." 

Hal  uncovered  also,  and  signed  to  his  captive  to  do  the 
same.  But  young  Lucy  was  obdurate  and  clapped  his 
gilt  casque  more  firmly  upon  his  head.  It  was  not  wisely 
done,  for  Egbert  Oaks,  just  behind,  knocked  it  up  with 
a  musket  butt. 

"  Do  not  be  a  fool,  Lucy,"  whispered  Hal,  "  it  took  all 
my  authority  to  save  you.  These  fellows  are  new  to  the 
business  and  obey  with  difficulty." 

"  I  am  disgraced,"  groaned  Lucy,  "  I  shall  never  dare 
to  look  General  Cavendish  in  the  face." 

"  Cheer  up,  'tis  the  fortune  of  war,"  said  the  victor, 
"  your  turn  next  time."  Their  talk  was  covered  by  the 
thunderous  chanting  of  Hog  Lane.  Between  the  ranks 
of  the  horses  a  slim  girl's  figure  glided,  and  next  moment 
Lucy's  damascened  helmet  was  rescued  from  the  dust 
and  set  upon  the  saddle-bow  of  his  conqueror. 

Hal  nodded  his  thanks,  but  presently  forgot  her  again 
when  silence  was  made.  Then  he  called  upon  the  troop 
which  had  ridden  with  him  to  deliver  up  their  captured 
horses  to  his  father.  On  the  way  he  deposited  young 
Lucy  with  the  turnkey,  promising  to  see  him  on  the 
morrow  and  if  possible  interest  his  father  in  effecting 
an  exchange — "  which  (said  Hal  meaningly)  is  more 
than  you  would  have  done  for  me  if  you  had  beaten  us 
and  fired  Gedney !  "  And  he  made  the  gesture  of  tighten- 
ing a  rope  about  his  own  neck.    The  young  fellow  flushed 


"FOR  THE  HOUSES  AND  THE  LORD!"     45 

for  his  conscience  was  anything  but  easy.  "  Our  general 
is  hard  driven,"  he  said,  "  what  has  been  done  was  not 
done  by  my  will.    I  acted  always  upon  orders." 

"  Lucky  for  you,  friend,"  retorted  Hal,  "  that  I  acted 
without  any — or  you  would  not  now  have  been  at  the 
door  of  Ely  prison.  'Tis  not  a  palace  quite,  but  you  will 
have  company  and  be  more  comfortable  than  a-swing 
on  the  branch  of  a  Gedney  apple  tree!  Ho,  there! 
Hicks,  Turnkey  Haggai  Llicks,  do  not  keep  Colonel 
Cromwell's  messenger  waiting !  " 

At  that  formidable  name  the  doors  fell  back  as  at  a 
magic  "  Open  Sesame." 

"  Colonel  Cromwell's  compliments  to  Mr.  Hicks  and 
he  bids  him  keep  Mr.  Richard  Lucy  in  all  safety  and  with 
what  comfort  is  possible — also  that  he  shall  give  him 
communication  with  the  other  prisoners.  File  out 
there!" 

Hog  Lane  was  becoming  quite  malleable.  It  went 
to  his  heart  to  lose  so  many  fine  soldiers.  What  a  troop 
he  could  soon  gather  if  only — well,  he  would  see  his 
father.  The  residence  of  the  Parliamentary  Commis- 
sionary  for  the  Eastern  Association  was  not  so  roomy 
and  spacious  as  the  Tithing  House,  but  the  feature  which 
fitted  it  for  a  base  of  supplies  was  the  immense  array  of 
barns  and  stables  surrounding  it,  which  had  formerly 
been  occupied  by  the  Commission  of  Array.  Hal  found 
his  father  in  his  temporary  office  making  believe  to  be 
immersed  in  business.  But  the  good  easy  man  had  al- 
ready slipped  behind  a  cushion  the  book  he  had  been 
reading,  and  rose  to  receive  his  visitors  with  scarcely 
concealed  ill-humour.  When  he  saw  his  son,  however, 
his  mood  changed. 

No  soldier  himself,  and  in  all  respects  peaceably 
minded,  he  yet  longed  for  military  distinction,  and  be- 
lieved that  his  son  would  realise  his  dreams. 

"  Why,  Hal,"  he  cried,  "  have  they  given  you  a  troop, 
lad?     They   will  look  well   in   the  new  uniforms — red 


46  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

coats  come  down  from  White  Chapel  and  the  villages 
thereabout,  all  piled  in  the  West  Barn — no  more  mis- 
takes and  one  Parliament  troop  charging  another  as  at 
Saffron  last  week — what  say  you,  Hal?  " 

"  I  say,  father,  that  there  is  no  troop  for  me  till  I 
have  gathered  men  and  horses." 

The  bald  smooth-faced  man  waved  a  hand  affably  in 
the  direction  of  Hog  Lane,  sitting  their  horses  patiently, 
but  with  some  contempt. 

"  Who  then  may  these  be  upon  my  horses?  I  presume 
you  had  the  Colonel's  permission.  You  might  have 
asked  mine  also." 

"  You  were  asleep  and  I  cared  not  about  waking  you, 
sir.  Besides,  the  service  was  secret  and  urgent.  We 
delivered  French  Drove  and  Gedney,  kept  our  borders 
clear,  broke  and  slew  four  troops  of  Candishers  and  took 
prisoner  their  leader,  young  Lucy  of  Charlcote." 

"  And  who  did  all  that — not  you,  Hal  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  father.  These  good  friends  of  mine  did  the 
work.  The  honour  belongs  to  them — to  them  and 
(suddenly  mindful  of  his  duty) — to  the  God  of  Battles." 

Hal  had  to  be  careful  of  Hog  Lane  prejudices,  es- 
pecially as  he  had  something  to  ask  of  them.  Accord- 
ingly feeling  the  moment  to  be  heavy  with  fate,  he  turned 
Hereward  about  and  addressed  them  face  to  face. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  you  are  good  soldiers  and  the 
enemies  of  the  Cause  are  numerous.  You  have  seen 
to-night  what  a  few  men  like  you  can  do.  Let  the  elders 
among  you  continue  to  make  boots,  but  God  and  the 
Colonel  need  soldiers  to  wear  them.  Your  women  and 
children  need  soldiers  to  protect  them.  Where  would 
they  have  been  now  if  I  had  not  mustered  you?  The 
men  and  young  boys  and  white-headed  grandfathers 
lying  in  their  blood — your  mothers  wailing  over  their 
burned  houses,  your  sisters  and  kinswomen — but  I 
speak  not  the  shame  you  know.  Why  not  serve  a  while 
in  the  army  of  the  Lord,  for  the  sake  of  His  Cause  and 


"  FOR  THE  HOUSES  AND  THE  LORD  !  "     47 

for  the  safety  of  those  dear  to  you  ?  I  ask  not  the  elders. 
That  were  too  much  to  expect,  and  besides  they  are 
needed  in  their  own  business.  Come  now,  out  with  it. 
Who  will  keep  his  beast  and  ride  with  me?  Ye  have 
proven  me.  Cutting  leather  is  no  young  man's  trade 
these  days " 

"  No,"  cried  Zered  Tuby,  snatching  his  black  helmet 
from  his  head,  "  the  curse  of  Meroz — think  of  the  curse 
of  Meroz !  '  Curse  ye  bitterly  the  inhabitants  thereof, 
because  they  came  not  to  the  help  of  the  Lord,  to  the 
help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty.'  " 

"  God  bless  you,  Zered,"  cried  Hal,  from  his  heart, 
for  he  had  not  dreamed  of  such  an  ally,  "  stand  by  me 
and  together  we  shall  have  the  best  troop  in  the  New 
Model." 

Hog  Lane  paused  uncertain.  Each  man  had  gone  his 
own  way  so  long  that  a  general  decision  was  difficult. 

"  Come — this  way  with  you — all  you  young  fellows 
who  are  willing  to  stand  such  another  fight  as  we  fought 
last  night.  Nerve  to  your  arms,  life  to  your  hearts,  and 
God's  blessing  on  all  who  will  run  the  hazard !  " 

Slowly  and  almost  sullenly  Hog  Lane  obeyed  the 
summons  of  Zered  Tuby,  the  man  who  was  of  themselves, 
bom  in  the  Anabaptist  purple,  a  Pharisee  of  the  Phari- 
sees. A  good  score  swung  into  rank  behind  him,  while 
the  others  still  hung  undecided,  thinking  what  fathers 
and  masters  might  say. 

"  Fear  no  man,"  cried  Zered,  divining  their  thoughts, 
"  I  will  answer  for  you  to  Hog  Lane.  Zachary  Elsegood 
cannot  hinder  you.  Have  you  not  saved  Gedney  and 
French  Drove,  besides  all  the  hamlets  of  the  fen?  You 
have  rooted  out  one  band  of  the  ungodly,  but  there  are 
many  others.  They  will  come  again  always  from  the 
North,  which  is  the  country  of  the  Scarlet  Woman.  Ye 
have  given  her  a  sore  shog,  but  do  not  flatter  yourselves. 
Babylon  the  Great  is  not  yet  fallen.  Come,  Issachar 
Sprigg  of  Stranground !    Be  a  strong  ass,  if  ass  you  must 


48  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

be.  Crouch  not  too  long  between  two  burdens!  You, 
Shem  Quarles,  think  shame !  And  your  sweetheart's 
tears  hardly  dry  on  your  coat  sleeve  because  of  the 
safety  you  brought  her.  Turn  about  and  get  to  your 
place.  For  the  women  and  children,  for  the  grandfathers 
and  the  child  unborn,  for  the  lasses  you  will  marry,  for 
the  swept  hearths  and  unburned  roofs — for  Gedney  and 
the  fens,  for  the  Houses  and  the  Lord — into  place  with 
you  there !  Wheel,  I  tell  you !  Stand  not  halting  be- 
tween two  opinions.  Forward  there,  Alured  Promise, 
let  me  see  you  perform.  Good  lad,  good  lads  all.  Now 
we  shall  ride  back  and  let  them  see  the  Hog  Lane 
Troop !  " 

"  Now  give  the  word — quick — set  them  moving !  "  he 
whispered  to  Hal,  "  they  will  not  stop  now  if  we  keep 
them  to  it." 

"  Two's  to  the  right,  file  out  there — sling  carbines ! 
Carry  swords !  " 

And  with  a  little  rough  dressing,  hardly  the  Slepe 
Troop  itself  made  a  finer  appearance  than  the  Hog 
Laners  on  the  eve  of  their  first  recruitment,  as  they 
marched  back  to  announce  their  decision  to  the  elders 
of  their  people. 


V 
"SLEEP  WELL,  CAPTAIN  LUDLOW!" 

BEFORE  they  found  their  straw  pallets  within  the 
barns  of  the  Commissioner's  house,  the  new  troop 
proceed  to  choose  its  officers. 

For  Captain:  Henry  Ludlow  the  Younger. 

Lieutenant:  Zered  Tuby  of  Hog  Lane. 

"  And  with  these  our  officers  we  will  serve — under 
Cromwell  and  none  other,  so  long  as  he  be  in  life — ex- 
cepting only  by  his  express  orders — and  if  the  needs  of 
the  service  so  demand.  We  submit  to  all  his  discipline, 
but  we  swear  no  oaths — our  word  being  according  to 
our  conscience,  and  all  under  God." 

So  they  passed  their  statutes  in  the  quaint  formal 
phrases  which  now  may  seem  empty  but  were  then  so 
full  of  meaning.  But  they  meant  what  they  said,  these 
Egberts,  Alureds,  Piouses,  and  Love-the-Lords.  Strange 
in  other  times  seem  their  names.  Hardly  can  one  think 
of  them  as  young  men  all  under  thirty  (except  Zered 
Tuby  alone),  full  of  rich  young  blood,  with  bounteous 
natural  gifts,  loving  life,  loving  their  sweethearts,  and 
looking  forward  to  a  home  and  children.  They  were,  in 
fact,  ordinary  young  men  of  an  extraordinary  time,  the 
like  of  them  only  to  be  found  in  rugged  New  England 
fighting  the  savages — and  that  only  because  these  colo- 
nists between  Cape  Cod  and  Casco  were  their  cousins  and 
uncles — the  neighbours  and  kinsfolk  of  the  men  who 
listed  to  follow  Cromwell  and  make  a  troop  for  Hal 
Ludlow  when  he  had  fallen  under  the  displeasure  of  his 
chief  in  the  beautiful  Tithe  House  garden  at  Ely,  in 

49 


50  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

which  the  sun-dial  still  stands,  cracked  but  faithful,  to 
witness  if  I  lie. 

That  evening  at  six  o'clock  exactly  Hal  took  the 
original  of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop  statutes  and  the  roll  of 
enlisted  members  to  the  Tithe  House.  He  was  demurely 
received  by  the  girls,  with  side  glances  which  intimated 
to  him  that  Colonel  Cromwell  was  in  the  adjoining  room 
and  might  be  expected  to  enter  at  any  moment.  But 
at  any  rate  just  then  Hal  was  in  no  mood  for  Puss-in-the- 
Corner.  He  must  convince  a  man  very  hard  to  be 
convinced. 

They  sat  down  to  supper  and  Hal  had  his  precious 
papers  on  the  tablecloth  beside  his  plate.  He  saw  the 
eagle  eye  of  the  commander  stoop  upon  them  like  a  hawk 
upon  a  hare. 

"  For  me?  "  he  queried — "  from  your  father?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Hal,  instinctively  laying  his  hand  upon 
them,  "  not  from  my  father.  For  you,  certainly,  but  they 
are  private." 

"  Well  enough  said,  Hal,"  laughed  Cromwell,  "  this  is 
no  time  for  secrets.  Help  yourself  to  the  brawn,  or  what 
do  you  say  to  cold  duck?  My  good  dame  will  see  that 
you  want  not  for  sweets.  She  hath  the  knack  of  a  cus- 
tard, and  I  warrant  you  are  hungry  enough." 

"  Indeed  I  am — I  have  not  tasted  bite  or  sup  since  last 
night,  and  I  was  so  busy  that  I  forgot  all  about 
dinner " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Bess  Cromwell,  "  to  think  of  it — when 
you  might  have  stayed — and  we  had  roast  pig  with 
crackling !  " 

They  laughed  at  this,  for  Bess  was  called  the  family 
glutton.  And  they  were  exceedingly  merry,  even  the 
Colonel  jesting  in  his  grave  way,  for  at  this  evening  meal, 
with  his  family  about  him,  he  was  wont  to  unbend  more 
than  at  all  the  other  hours  of  the  day.  He  told  tales  of 
wise  ministers  and  preachers  whom  he  had  known — wiser 
than  those  of  that  day,  in  that  they  fed  the  flock  and  let 


"SLEEP  WELL,  CAPTAIN  LUDLOW!"    51 

politics  alone — how  Mr.  Rogers  of  Dedham,  ambling  on 
his  ancient  pony,  was  asked  by  a  young  fop  what  made 
his  horse's  tail  wag  so  constantly,  and  how  Mr.  Rogers 
had  replied,  "  Just  what  makes  your  tongue  wag — 
weakness !  " 

Hal  listened  respectfully — all  the  more  so  that  he  felt 
that  the  master  of  the  house  was  making  an  effort  to  do 
him  honour.  He  was  conscious,  too,  that  a  little  foot  was 
seeking  his  under  the  table,  whereupon  as  in  duty  bound 
he  responded  by  touching  that  of  Bridget  Cromwell, 
who  sat  at  his  right,  as  gently  as  a  Hog  Lane  riding  boot, 
spurred  and  double-soled,  would  permit.  But  he  started 
and  apologised  when  he  found  a  stare  of  cold  displeasure 
turned  upon  him.  Yet  he  could  have  sworn — yes,  there 
it  was  again.  Could  it  be — yes,  it  must  be — that  monkey 
Bess  paying  court  to  him  from  the  other  side  of  the  table  ? 
Bess  was  only  sixteen,  but  such  is  the  nature  of  man,  that 
Hal  Ludlow  began  to  discover  in  her  a  ripeness  and 
perfection  of  which  he  had  not  dreamed  five  minutes 
before.  Her  eyes  were  merry  and  her  profile  certainly 
better  cut  than  Bridget's.  Besides,  she  had  such  mischief 
and  spirits  in  her  glance  that — that — Hal  was  a  young 
man  and  exceedingly  susceptible.  He  did  not  fall  in 
love,  but  he  resolved  to  continue  and  even  to  pursue  the 
acquaintance  of  Mistress  Elizabeth  Cromwell. 

There  was  also  a  certain  dangerous  joy  in  playing  with 
such  subterranean  fire  under  the  eye  and  within  sound 
of  the  voice  of  the  Terror  of  England.  Yet  they  were 
grave  and  sober,  these  young  people.  Bridget  gave  her 
severest  shoulder  to  the  venturesome  Hal,  and  Bess 
listened  as  if  in  a  reverie  of  admiration  to  her  father's 
words.  Hal's  ears  indeed  burned,  but  then  he  was  only 
a  man,  and  small  deceits  sat  not  gracefully  upon  him. 
But  the  maids,  conscious  of  all  that  was  going  forward 
unseen,  interpreting  each  jingle  of  the  spurs  as  the  un- 
fortunate moved  uneasily,  talked  soft  and  mannerly  and 
behaved  meekly,  so  that  they  were  a  cause  of  wonder  to 


52  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

the  young  man,  into  whose  vitals  shame  ate  like  a  ravag- 
ing worm  and  indeed  quite  spoilt  his  supper.  The  talk 
falling  upon  creeds,  and  the  taking  of  tests  and  covenants, 
especially  the  Scots  one  to  which  Colonel  Cromwell  was 
bitterly  opposed,  Hal  ventured  to  say  that  the  wise  folk 
from  the  north  would  do  well  to  keep  to  their  original 
creed. 

"And  what  may  that  be,  Master  Theologue?"  cried 
Cromwell,  scenting  a  discussion  in  a  quarter  where  he 
least  expected  one.  Whereupon  Hal  repeated  the  line 
he  had  heard  from  the  singing  of  Ewan  Gordon  of  the 
Hog  Lane  Troop: 

"//   thou  woulds't  come   the   better  speed 
Gang  no  farther  than  this  creed — 
'  Say  well  and  do  no  ill ' 
Shall  keep  thy  soul  in  safety  still." 

Cromwell  shook  his  head  at  Hal  with  a  certain  contempt 
not  unmixed  with  paternal  indulgence. 

"  Hal,  Hal,  if  you  only  knew  what  you  were  talking 
about  I  would  confer  seriously  with  you.  But  being  of 
another  age,  I  judge  that  you  will  grow  wiser  as  the  years 
mount  about  you.  Only  remember  that  creeds  and 
conduct  are  not  as  easy  as  *  Tick-tack-toe,  Round  I  go.' 
You  are  beginning  with  the  fruit  without  growing  the 
tree,  without  bud  or  flower,  without  pruning  and  digging. 
But  I  speak  Greek  to  you  young  people,  from  whom  all 
that  a  wise  man  can  expect  on  the  hither  side  of  thirty 
is  a  reasonable  sagacity  and  a  habit  of  prompt  and  dutiful 
obedience.  Bess,  fetch  the  Books.  Sir,  you  will  abide 
and  worship  with  us?  " 

Colonel  Cromwell  sat  by  the  window  in  a  high  chair,  a 
table  before  him,  and  the  light  of  the  west  shining  softly 
in  through  the  golden  haze  of  farinaceous  motes  which 
filled  the  great  Tithe  Barn  Yards.  Bess,  with  the  ribbon 
of  one  dainty  slipper  missing,  tripped  demurely  and  un- 
consciously up  and  deposited  upon  the  desk  a  quarto 


"SLEEP  WELL,  CAPTAIN  LUDLOW!"     53 

volume  bound  in  massive  silver,  double-clasped  and 
cornered  with  the  same  metal.  Then  she  returned  for 
the  Psalm  Book,  which  was  of  the  thin  flat  pulpit  type, 
but  almost  equally  weighty  with  silver  plating. 

The  head  of  the  family  gave  out  a  psalm  to  be 
sung,  which  he  read  four  lines  at  a  time,  in  a  soldierly 
voice  such  as  he  used  when  exhorting  the  Slepe  Troop. 

It  was  good  at  close  of  day  to  sing  in  the  safe  shelter 
of  that  much  threatened  house — a  song  of  eventide  and 
consolation. 

"  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encamps, 

And  round  encompasseth 
All  these  about  that  do  Him  fear 
And  then  deliver eth " 

So  line  by  line  and  precept  by  precept  that  clear  firm 
voice  enunciated  the  promises,  as  it  were  laying  down  the 
lines  of  circumvallation  about  an  impregnable  fortress, 
till  he  concluded  with  the  verse  in  which  all  joined 
joyously  as  being  specially  applicable  to  their  present 
situation : 

"  The  troubles  that  aMict  the  just 
In  number  many  be, 
And  yet  at  last  out  of  them  all. 
The  Lord  doth  set  him  free." 

"  The  Lord  give  ear  to  the  song  of  His  servants ! " 
concluded  the  family  high  priest,  and  opening  the  great 
silver  armorialed  quarto  he  read  *'  in  his  ordinary  " — 
that  is  to  say,  in  his  steady  progress  through  the  Scrip- 
ture, a  stormy  battle  chapter  of  the  Wars  of  David, 
which  made  his  voice  shake  the  roof,  and  the  orderlies, 
stable  hands,  and  servant  maids  clustering  at  the  end  of 
the  long  room,  furtively  draw  together  as  for  protec- 
tion against  some  coming  catastrophe. 

Then  quite  suddenly  he  closed  the  book,  and  turning 
his  chair  towards  the  window  he  prayed  kneeling  into 


54.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

the  golden  twilight  where  the  sun  had  gone  down.  The 
family  and  dependents  were  swiftly  upon  their  knees. 
Hal  Ludlow,  a  little  disconcerted  by  the  unexpected 
movement,  followed  their  example.  The  whole  little 
assembly  was  soon  under  the  spell  of  the  speaker,  who, 
as  it  were,  spoke  with  his  God  face  to  face — all,  that  is, 
except  Bess  Cromwell,  who  with  eyes  that  roamed  every- 
where and  sought  out  everything  spied  a  wisp  of  silk 
upon  Hal's  right  spur.  In  a  moment  she  had  glanced  at 
her  own  slippers,  discovered  her  loss,  recovered  the  bow- 
knot,  and  with  a  cunning  hitch  of  a  pin  drawn  from  her 
neck  ruffles  fastened  it  again  in  place.  And  so  to  her 
devotions  as  diligently  as  any. 

"And  to  think,"  she  reflected,  "  that  some  are  so 
wicked  as  to  deny  the  existence  of  a  kind  Providence. 
If  Hal  had  not  been  so  slow  and  stupid,  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  been  found  out !  " 


"  And  now,  lad,"  said  the  Colonel  when  Dame  Crom- 
well and  her  mother  had  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks,  and 
the  girls  had  demurely  presented  their  hands  in  token 
of  farewell,  "  let  us  see  what  is  in  these  papers."  But 
Hal  wanted  to  proceed  in  his  own  way. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  your  pardon  and  patience  a  moment. 
I  have  done  something — as  you  asked  me — no  great 
thing,  but  something.  Your  soldiership  can  tell  better 
than  I  what  it  is  worth.  But  the  Anabaptists  fought 
well,  and  are  willing  to  come  in  with  us,  arming  and 
mounting  themselves  as  is  your  rule.  I  asked  them 
before  ever  I  let  them  out  of  the  saddle,  and  little  Zered 
Tuby  backed  me  with  all  his  might 

"  Why  was  he  so  keen — I  have  heard  of  him  as  a 
bitter  plant  ?  "  queried  Cromwell,  who  took  nothing  on 
trust. 

"  A  bitter  plant,  but  satisfactory — and  to  me  indis- 
pensable," said  Hal.     "  He  has  tasted  fighting  and  is 


«  SLEEP  WELL,  CAPTAIN  LUDLOW !  "    55 

eager  for  more.  He  hates  the  King's  folks  as  the  enemies 
of  the  Cause " 

"  And  of  the  Lord,"  said  Cromwell. 

"  That  is  what  he  said,"  Hal  admitted.  "  Also  I  judge 
that  he  is  not  sorry  to  play  a  trick  upon  Preacher  Else- 
good,  who  has  set  up  to  be  a  chief  man  in  Hog 
Lane.  He  wants  to  keep  them  all  out  of  the  war,  hard 
at  it  hammering  lapstones  and  twitching  waxed 
threads." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  Colonel  grimly,  "  I  know  Master 
Zachary  Elsegood.  He  has  this  much  of  Judas  about 
him  that  he  carries  the  bag  and  is  anxious  that  it  should 
be  filled  with  Parliamentary  gold.  Have  a  care,  Hal, 
that  he  does  not  cheat  you.  He  is  a  cunning  dog,  your 
Zachary.  He  took  some  simple  scrupulous  souls  out  of 
our  second  troop  by  reproaching  them  with  companying 
with  infant  baptisers." 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  Zered  will  keep  them  right.  They 
draw  mightily  to  him,  and  dislike  Zachary,  who  has  kept 
them  working  for  'prentice  wage  years  longer  than  the 
law  allows.  Oh,  the  young  men  will  stick  to  it  right 
enough.  Here  are  the  names  and  articles  of  associa- 
tion." 

He  passed  the  papers  over,  which  Cromwell  took  and 
smoothed  down  under  the  light  of  the  tall  wax  candles. 
He  smiled  well  pleased  as  he  counted  the  roll.  "  A  full 
troop,"  he  said,  "  and  one  of  the  best,  if  I  know  aught  of 
Hog  Lane.  Ah,  but  what's  this?  Choosing  their  offi- 
cers! For  Captain,  Henry  Ludlow?  Who  is  he,  this 
Captain  Henry  Ludlow?  This  that  you  bring  me  is  a 
clear  infringement  of  my  prerogatives.  Young  man,  I 
wonder  that  you  dare?" 

"  It  is  not  my  daring,  sir,"  said  Hal,  trying  hard  to 
keep  the  triumphant  accent  out  of  his  voice.  "  I  shall  be 
very  content  to  be  once  more  what  you  promised  me,  a 
trooper  in  the  Slepe  Troop.  But  these  fellows  are  wild 
as  marsh  curlews.     If  you  do  not  accept  their  officers 


56  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

and  their  rules,  I  fear  we  may  have  to  do  without  the 
troop.  And,  Colonel,  you  should  have  seen  them  charge 
— if  only  they  had  known  when  to  pull  up." 

"  The  Hog  Lane  Ruperts !  Not  pull  up,  you  say  ? 
That  I  take  it  upon  myself  to  teach  them.  Well,  I  sup- 
pose I  can  do  no  better  than  accept  your  title — though 
Sam  Squire,  my  adjutant,  has  as  good  as  the  promise  of 
the  next  troop." 

"  You  let  Charlie  Montague  have  the  troop  he  raised," 
pleaded  Hal,  "  and  his  men  never  proved  themselves  as 
my  Hog  Laners  did  last  night  at  Gedney  Hill." 

"  I  would  that  I  had  been  there,  sirrah,  though  I  dare- 
say I  could  have  done  no  better.  But  let  us  look  at  their 
articles — umm-umm — '  will  fight  under  Colonel  Cromwell 
and  no  other.'  That  will  never  do.  Must  change  that. 
Colonel  Cromwell  may  be  under  the  sod  any  day.  You 
must  see  that  changed,  Hal." 

"  They  mean  what  you  mean,  sir,"  the  young  man 
explained,  "  only  that  they  will  not  be  sent  to  my  Lord 
Essex  or " 

"  I  see — name  no  names,  Hal.  I  think  we  can  arrange 
the  matter.  '  They  desire  to  incorporate  themselves 
with  Colonel  Cromwell's  brigade  of  horse  which  is  he 

now  raising  for  the  Eastern  Counties'  Association ' 

How  will  that  do  ? " 

"  I  doubt  if  they  would  understand  what  the  words 
mean,"  Hal  Ludlow  smiled  in  answer  to  the  twinkle  in 
his  chief's  eye. 

"  No  matter,  no  matter,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  but  we 
shall  translate  a  little  for  the  benefit  of  that  excellent  man, 
your  father,  and  the  War  Commission  at  Westminster, 
who  would  not  like  to  have  Colonel  Cromwell  shoved 
upon  them  willy-nilly  by  a  Hog  Lane  armed  to  the 
teeth.  *Tis  only  a  difference  of  expression — as  you  say. 
We  both  mean  the  same.  And  the  day  may  come  when 
Hog  Lane  may  be  most  useful — more  than  ninety  and 
nine  just  men  who  never  thought  of  choosing  officeps  and 


«  SLEEP  WELL,  CAPTAIN  LUDLOW !  "    57 

imposing  rules  on  the  Two  Houses!  Well,  I  may  as 
well  write  you  and  Zered  a  couple  of  acting  commissions 
till  I  can  get  the  official  ones  down  from  Westminster. 
Good  night  to  you — you  go  back  to  your  troop,  I  sup- 
pose.    Sleep  well,  Captain  Ludlow !  " 


VI 

THE  ISLE  JATTE 

"  li^  ^Y  heart,  my  heart,  my  heart's  dear  heart — eat 
I  Y  £    it  then  and  welcome.    I  stole  it  for  thee  1  " 

The  words,  spoken  in  the  most  caressing 
tones  possible  to  womankind,  came  from  somewhere  un- 
seen. Hal  Ludlow  had  paused  before  the  loose-box  in 
which  he  had  stabled  Hereward,  who  was  never  so  happy 
as  when  he  had  enough  bedding  to  roll  upon  at  his 
pleasure.  It  might  not  be  very  good  for  his  coat,  but  it 
was  excellent  for  his  temper  and  spirits.  Hal  loved  his 
beast  and  gave  him  this  indulgence  as  often  as  he  could. 
It  was  dusk  in  the  long  stable  of  his  father's  official  resi- 
dence, and  Hereward's  loose-box  was  quite  at  the  end. 
Coming  in  out  of  the  temporary  guard-room,  Captain 
Ludlow  had  picked  up  a  lantern  and  made  his  way  to  give 
a  good-night  handful  of  oats  and  a  caress  to  his  friend. 

He  paused  at  the  sound  of  the  voice.  Surely  no  son 
of  Hog  Lane  had  ever  been  made  love  to  in  such  fashion. 
"  My  heart's  dear  heart  " — that  sounded  like  a  song  such 
as  he  had  often  heard  sung  when  he  was  a  collegian  at 
Trinity. 

He  lifted  his  lantern  and  let  the  light  fall  upon  the 
manger  which  had  been  fitted  into  a  niche  in  the  wall. 
Upon  the  edge  of  it  perched  the  gipsy  girl  who  had  saved 
his  life  on  the  slope  of  Gedney  Hill.  She  had  Hereward's 
head  against  her  breast  and  with  both  palms  hollowed 
into  a  cup,  she  was  teaching  him  to  eat  from  them.  The 
horse  whinnied  with  pleasure,  and  even  as  Hal  ap- 
proached threw  up  his  head  and  laid  a  soft  nose  against 

58 


THE  ISLE  JATTE  69 

the  girl's  cheek.  "  Daintily  now  or  you  will  push  me  off 
my  perch !  "  she  remonstrated. 

"What  is  this,  you  little  witch?"  Hal  exclaimed. 
"  Hereward  allows  no  one  in  his  stall.  He  permits  no 
one  to  feed  him  but  myself.  What  brings  you  here,  you 
imp — answer  me?  "  For  Hal  was  suffering  from  a  sense 
of  wrong — jealousy  of  the  girl  who  had  taken  Here- 
ward's  love — horse  jealousy,  more  bitter  with  some  men 
than  the  treachery  of  a  sweetheart.  But  the  fairy-like 
figure  surprised  and  conquered  him.  The  clothing  was 
scant  but  scrupulously  neat.  The  dress  wrapped  the 
young  limbs  about  as  the  green  sheath  swathes  the 
poppy-bud.  Hal  was  conscious  of  a  bare  brown  neck, 
and  of  a  little  bird-like  head  poised  upon  it.  Swiftly 
the  single  glance  which  had  betrayed  her  consciousness 
of  his  presence  traversed  him  from  head  to  foot.  He 
could  see  the  pupils  of  the  great  dark  eyes  narrow  and 
almost  vanish  under  the  glare  of  the  light. 

"  Hereward  and  I  have  made  friends,"  said  the  perched 
imp ;  "  you  see,  noble  captain,  that  I  saved  his  life  as  well 
as  his  master's,  and  he  has  the  grace  to  be  grateful." 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  demanded  Hal,  more  and  more 
astonished,  for  the  accent  and  speech  were  not  of  the 
country. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  girl,  "  if  you  tell  me  that,  I  shall  be 
grateful  indeed!  Some  say  I  followed  the  gipsies  of 
my  own  free  will.  But  more  like  I  was  knocked  on  the 
head  and  tossed  into  a  donkey  pannier.  Now  I  am  of 
your  troop  and  my  name  is  on  you  rolls." 

"  Impossible !  " 

"  Not  impossible,  I  put  it  there  myself  when  old  man 
Zered  was  not  looking — Nena  la  Fain — a  good  name  too, 
as  it  sounds — for  I  never  had  any  chance,  and  I  have 
always  been  hungry." 

A  vague  idea  shaped  itself  in  Hal's  mind  that  his  eye 
had  passed  over  some  such  name — registered  upon  the 
strange  muster-roll  of  the  Hog  Lane  Saints.    What  would 


60  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Colonel  Cromwell  say?  He  would  certainly  allow  no 
fooling,  and  he  would  require  full  explanations.  Captain 
Hal  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  wished  that  his  past  had 
been  clear  of  "  petticoating " — for  by  that  name  the 
Puritans  of  the  East  designated  the  give-and-take  com- 
merce of  innocent  young  people.  It  was  discouraged  as 
leading  to  the  fatal  gulf  of  "  chambering  and  wanton- 
ness," which  in  turn  led  directly  to  expulsion  and  the 
blackness  of  darkness. 

The  chief  of  the  Hog  Laners  felt  the  responsibility  of 
his  position,  but  after  all  the  girl  had  saved  his  life.  If 
he  were  to  tell  the  Colonel,  Zered  could  of  course  bear 
him  out.  But  he  wished  that  he  had  had  a  more  sober 
reputation.  Yet  it  was  not  his  fault  that  the  rustle  of 
silk  skirts  and  the  flutter  of  bosom  lawn  disturbed  his 
nerves. 

First  of  all  he  must  dispose  of  Neiia  for  the  night. 
His  father  and  he  were  alone  in  the  Commissioner's 
house.  He  had  no  relatives  in  Ely  to  whom  he  could 
commit  this  charge.  He  frowned  thoughtfully,  and  the 
girl's  eyes  followed  him  everywhere,  striving  to  read  his 
purpose. 

"  I  will  not  go,"  she  declared  suddenly,  as  if  in  answer 
to  an  unspoken  resolution.  "  I  can  provide  for  myself. 
See !  "  And  with  quick  surprising  agility  she  seized  the 
edge  of  the  hay-shoot  which  communicated  with  the 
forage  loft,  swung  herself  clear,  and  was  gone. 

He  had  a  vision  of  shapely  brown  ankles  swinging  an 
instant  in  space  and  then  lifted  out  of  sight  into  the  dark 
cavern  overhead.  He  went  round  by  the  outside  stairs 
and,  opening  the  doors  through  which  the  great  pulleys 
swung  the  bales  of  hay  for  Cromwell's  troop  horses,  he 
peered  in.  Nothing  stirred  but  the  rats.  He  saw  endless 
bales  and  stacks  of  fodder  fading  into  darkness,  huge 
cross-beams  shadowy  overhead  and  the  night  dimly 
shining  in,  star-sown,  through  ranges  of  high-set  tri- 
angular   "  wickets." 


THE  ISLE  JATTE  61 

But  no  light-heeled  maid  bewitching  to  horses  and 
troublesome  to  new-made  captains  of  horse  by  the  grace 
of  God  and  OHver  Cromwell.  Nothing  remained  there- 
fore but  to  go  decently  to  bed,  which  he  did  on  a  pallet 
flanked  by  his  lieutenant,  and  at  twenty  paces  off  all 
along  the  opposite  wall,  from  the  noses  of  Hog  Lane 
resounded  the  serene  trumpetings  of  victorious  Ironsides. 

How  Neha  la  Fain  passed  the  night  was  a  secret  not 
then  revealed  to  Hal,  but  about  twelve  of  the  clock  a 
slim  figure  with  a  bundle  of  clothes  piled  upon  its  head 
like  a  dusky  turban  dropped  into  the  river  a  couple  of 
miles  below  the  city,  where  the  marsh  willows  are  densest 
and  the  salt  tussocks  grow  highest.  Hardly  a  splash — 
not  a  ripple  of  wake — no  fish  could  have  been  more 
silent  than  Nefia,  little  brown  Nefia  the  outcast,  who 
carried  so  old  and  wise  head  on  such  young  and  pretty 
shoulders. 

She  was  exceedingly  able  to  take  care  of  herself.  Her 
twenty  years  had  taught  her  much  varied  wisdom.  The 
Ronanichels  cherish  their  womenfolk,  and  though  Nefia 
was  none  of  their  blood,  it  was  expected  that  one  day 
she  would  marry  the  chief.  So  that,  though  one  man 
or  two  had  got  a  knife  in  his  ribs  on  account  of  ill-advised 
approaches,  Nefia  la  Fain  flitted  still  fancy  free.  She 
had  known  no  lord.  She  had  never  even  had  a  sweet- 
heart— never  lingered  under  the  pines  with  a  lover  when 
the  elder  women  were  banking  up  to-morrow's  fire  at 
the  base  of  a  great  trunk  of  cedar  or  pearly  beech. 

Now  she  hastily  put  on  her  dress  and  shoes,  sitting 
on  a  boss  of  sea-grass  well  above  the  tide-mark,  and  then 
pushed  forward  like  one  who  knows  the  way,  to  the 
extreme  end  of  the  island  on  which  she  stood.  It  was 
what  among  the  northern  fens  was  called  a  wooded  isle, 
though  the  timber  was  not  of  the  height  and  magnifi- 
cence which  makes  notable  Isle  O'sea  opposite  Maldon. 

The  wind  of  the  night  soon  dried  the  brackish  river- 
water  upon  her  lithe  body  and  only  a  pleasant  surface 


62  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES    . 

coolness  remained  upon  her  skin.  She  was  now  far  away 
from  all  except  the  fen  sounds,  and  the  marshes,  though 
only  a  few  know  it,  are  very  busy  and  populous  during 
the  night.  On  little  patches  of  the  mere,  ducks  placidly 
swam  or  lay  torpid  under  the  bank,  with  heads  tucked 
comfortably  away  under  their  wings.  The  thunder  of 
the  bittern  came  from  the  central  marshes,  braying  like 
a  brazen  drum.  This  waked  to  emulation  a  bull  on  the 
newly  reclaimed  polders  (called  the  Bouchier  meadows 
from  the  family  of  good  Dame  Cromwell,  with  whose 
dower  they  had  been  drained).  Nefia  hardly  listened  to 
all  this.  Her  ear  took  in  the  sounds  certainly.  Her 
brain  registered  and  interpreted  them,  but  she  was  too 
intent  on  going  forward  to  stop  because  Baisent,  the 
Cromwell  bull,  bellowed  on  the  Bouchier  polder,  or  Stone- 
hurst  rooster  marked  midnight  with  a  distant  trumpet- 
call  as  argentine  as  the  ripple  of  her  own  laughter. 

On  she  went,  ducking  under  scrub  and  gliding  through 
tangled  brush  swift  and  noiselessly  as  a  squirrel.  Pres- 
ently there  came  a  deeper  darkness,  the  outline  of  a  ridge 
pole,  the  vague  black  silhouette  of  a  mud-built  chimney,  a 
closed  door,  and  Nefia  was  at  home. 

It  was  a  fowler's  hut,  such  as  exist  by  hundreds  in  the 
fens,  light  in  structure  but  standing  well  up  to  the 
storms  under  its  shade  of  alder  and  willow.  Set  on  a 
platform  of  peat,  peat-banked  about,  the  walls  wattle- 
caulked  with  stiff  Lincolnshire  clay,  and  a  low-built  brick 
chimney  at  one  end,  such  was  the  refuge  of  Nefia  la  Fain 
and  at  rare  intervals  the  home  of  Jack  Wassailer,  which 
is  to  say  Oiseleur,  one  of  the  first  arrivals  of  that  fine 
flight  of  French  Huguenots  escaping  from  Mazarin  and 
Anne  of  Austria.  He  rarely  rem.ained  long  in  one  place 
and  Nefia  had  small  expectation  of  finding  him  within 
when  she  clambered  up  the  rude  steps  to  the  door.  But 
the  Wassailer  was  there  before  her  and  called  out  in 
French,  "  A  moment,  petite  mie,  and  I  shall  have  a  light 
for  thee." 


THE  ISLE  JATTE  63 

She  heard  the  flint  of  the  steel  and  divined  the  careful 
nursing  of  the  spark  among  the  tinder.  Then  after  the 
faint  hiss  of  the  match  cord,  a  candle  was  lighted,  and  to 
her  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  spaces  of  the  wide  cool  dark, 
the  world  seemed  to  rush  together,  and  the  night  to  bank 
itself  solid  and  ebon  about  that  dazzling  illumination. 
The  hut  seemed  bursting  with  it.  It  kindled  in  the 
chimney  and  threw  a  glare  against  the  skies.  Every 
chink  and  crevice  vomited  fire  and  the  very  glade  itself 
was  inundated  with  light.  The  door  was  outlined  with 
brightness  as  though  framed  in  fire,  and  overhead  the 
hut  itself  raised  a  humped  and  hooded  back  towards  the 
east  winds.  The  door  was  thrown  open,  the  fly  net  raised, 
and  the  white  beard  of  Jacques  the  Wassailer  brushed 
with  a  wispy  paternal  benediction  the  cheek  of  the  girl. 
"  Why  did  you  not  shout  for  me,  to  come  and  ferry  you 
over?"  said  the  old  man,  sticking  his  candle  on  a 
copiously  bedripped  perch  fixed  in  the  side  of  the  hut 
above  the  table.  "Well,  child,  what  of  new?  Have 
you  found  him  ?  " 

Nefia  la  Fain  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  lifting  her 
eyes  frankly  to  those  of  the  old  man,  she  answered  with- 
out flushing,  "  I  have  found  him,  but  he  is  not  for  me !  " 

"For  whom  then?"  The  old  Huguenot  turned  an 
anxious  eye  upon  the  girl. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  "  Oh,  I  do  not  know — 
some  great  lady.  He  is  a  Captain  of  horse  under  Colonel 
Cromwell,  and  his  father  lives  in  the  biggest  house  in 
Ely." 

"His  name?" 

"  Captain  Hal  Ludlow — I  saved  his  life.  There  was  a 
fight  at  Gedney  out  French  Drove  way.  His  men  sent 
the  Candishers  flying,  but  he  would  have  been  killed 
while  capturing  the  leader  if  I  had  not  shot  the  man 
down." 

"  And  so,"  interjected  the  old  man  grimly,  "  he  showed 
his  English  gratitude  by  making  love  to  you !  " 


64  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  No — no — no — I  tell  you."  Neiia  beat  on  the  table 
with  the  palm  of  her  small  hand.  "  He  did  not  know. 
He  thought  I  was  a  child.  I  did  but  ride  behind  him  and 
slid  off  before  we  got  to  the  town." 

The  old  exile  took  his  beard  in  his  left  hand  and 
crushed  it  against  his  teeth,  biting  it  in  a  manner  usual 
with  him  in  meditation. 

He  considered  the  thing  unlikely,  and  with  the  racial 
suspicion  of  a  Frenchman  where  women  are  concerned, 
quite  disbelieved  in  the  disinterestedness  of  the  Captain 
of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop. 

"  He  knows  well  enough,"  he  muttered,  "  the  man 
does  not  live  who  would  not  know  if  he  found  favour  in 
your  eyes.  I  can  see  him — a  Jack-a-dandy  ape  for  all 
his  Puritan  blood.  He  cocked  his  feather  at  you,  I 
warrant — ah,  if  he  plays  you  false,  it  will  not  be  a  good 
day  for  him  when  I  find  my  brave  gentleman  at  the 
end  of  my  old  fowling-piece — slugs  for  such  cattle, 
the  slugs  with  which  I  killed  the  wild  boar  in  Netly 
Thickets !  " 

Neiia  la  Fain  caught  him  eagerly  by  the  arm.  "  You 
wrong  him — and  you  wrong  me,"  she  said.  "  I  did  not 
know  that  I  loved  him  till  I  fled  to  you.  He  came  on  me 
feeding  his  horse  and  I  was  frightened  and  escaped. 
No,  he  did  not  fright  me.  He  was  gentle  and  kind — only 
he  wanted  to  place  me  with  some  of  his  own  people  in  a 
built  house  in  the  town.  I  am  not  made  for  such — street 
and  company  and  houses  opposite !  " 

"  But  the  night— the  night  of  the  battle  ? "  the  old 
man  continued  still   suspiciously. 

"  It  was  so  dark  he  never  saw  me !  I  tell  you,  Jacques, 
he  is  in  no  ways  to  blame." 

The  old  Frenchman  watched  the  small  brown  hands 
playing  nervously  with  the  webbing  of  a  snare  which  she 
had  picked  from  a  shelf. 

"  You  plead  for  him  almost  too  well,"  he  said  grimly, 
"  and  for  the  rest  we  shall  see.    That  the  lad  is  well-born 


THE  ISLE  JATTE  65 

and  of  a  brave  spirit  I  doubt  not,  but — the  young  men 
of  this  land  are  of  a  wandering  mind,  and  his  Captaincy 
under  Cromwell  will  help  him  nothing  when  he  comes 
under  the  spell  of  your  eyes." 

"  But  he  will  not — even  if  that  were  true,"  cried  the 
girl.  "  Wassailer,  listen — I  will  stay  with  you  and  go  no 
more  with  the  tribe.  You  will  teach  me  your  business 
and  we  shall  catch  birds  together.  I  shall  cook  for  you 
and  keep  the  house,  wash  and  mend  your  clothes, 
make  and  repair  your  nets  and  snares — be  your  little 
daughter." 

The  Huguenot's  eyes  glowed. 

"li  only  you  would — or  could!  But  I  fear  me  you 
have  already  drunk  the  poison.  Yet  stay  with  me  while 
you  can.  You  shall  be  welcome  at  Isle  Jatte.  Ours  is  a 
good  trade,  petite.  It  nourishes  well  its  man.  And  with 
this  little  piece  of  tin  (he  took  a  bird-call  from  his 
pocket)  I  will  teach  you  to  bring  down  the  plover  from 
the  sky  so  that  he  will  put  his  head  into  the  noose  when- 
ever you  want  him.  He  will  leave  the  fat  wireworms 
on  which  he  is  busy  in  Farmer  Giles's  field  to  come  to 
you.  Besides,  fowling  does  not  bow  a  man  prematurely 
like  the  labour  of  the  plough  and  scythe.  See  the  poor 
slaves,  stretched  along  their  plough-handles  under  the 
chill  ruflle  of  the  winter  wind  and  the  bite  of  an  easterly 
spring.  We  have  only  to  set  our  traps  cunningly,  to 
shoot  straight,  and  to  whistle  for  the  birds," 

The  morning  began  to  break  upon  Isle  Jatte  and 
Grande  Isle.  The  Huguenot  used  the  old  names  as  if 
he  still  whistled  down  the  larks  in  the  meadows  beneath 
St.  Andre  and  on  the  islands  of  the  Etang  de  Berre. 
Jacques  must  make  haste.  The  golden  plover,  wariest 
and  most  astute  of  birds,  would  be  busy  at  the  lower 
corner  of  Isle  Jatte  when  the  tide  was  going  out.  His 
capture  was  no  easy  task,  for  these  plovers  post  sentinels 
while  the  flocks  feed.  So  Jacques  ordered  Nena  to  lie 
down  on  the  bed  and  sleep  till  he  should  return.     He 


66  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

would  go  in  his  skiff  and  be  back  before  she  was  awake. 
Then  he  shouldered  his  snares  and  game  bag,  closed  the 
door  quietly  and  was  gone.  The  oars  had  hardly  plashed 
in  the  water  before  Nena  was  asleep.  The  silence  of  the 
morning  sun  brooded  upon  Fenland.  The  green-painted 
shutters  were  almost  closed.  Only  a  single  ray  of  sun- 
light filtered  through  the  narrow  slit,  while  outside  the 
bees  boomed  in  the  clover  heads,  the  mallow  and  camo- 
mile, the  mint  and  lavender  with  which  the  old  epicure 
of  Basse  Provence  had  surrounded  his  dwelling  in  the 
heart  of  the  marshes.  Meanwhile  Jack  the  Wassailer 
pulled  steadily,  all  the  while  evolving  a  great  plan.  He 
must  keep  the  maid  with  him  or  she  would  certainly 
wind  herself  a  skein  which  she  would  find  it  impossible 
to  disentangle. 

He  had  it.  He,  old  Jacques  Wassailer,  could  not  trust 
this  girl  in  the  matter  of  young  blood  and  twenty  years. 
But  he  could  trust  her  with  money.  She  would  sell  his 
produce  for  him  in  Ely  and  Lincoln,  or  at  the  manors 
and  villages  of  the  west  where  fen  produce  was  at  a 
premium. 

Neiia  la  Fain  had  the  habit  of  towns.  She  was  expert 
in  all  the  commerce  of  the  bourgeoisie.  She  could  speak 
English  more  glibly  than  any  native,  and  submerge  in 
charlatan's  patter  and  gipsy  contempt  any  rash  amateur 
who  tried  to  bandy  wit  with  her. 

The  Wassailer  had  the  solitary  man's  horror  of  crowds. 
English  he  spoke  ill  or  not  at  all,  and  when  he  went  to 
market  he  had  often  been  obliged  to  stand  silently  by  his 
basket  till  some  stout  burgess,  attracted  by  the  quality 
of  the  birds  and  intent  on  his  Sunday's  dinner,  approached 
and  offered  him  a  price  ridiculously  low,  merely  because 
the  seller  was  an  old  refugee  in  a  ragged  coat.  Then 
Jacques  Wassailer  would  hold  up  his  fingers,  two  or  three 
to  indicate  the  price,  but  he  could  not  chaffer  or  bargain 
in  rough  English.  Ah,  if  only  he  had  had  them  at 
Martigues  or  on  the  market  square  of  Marseilles.    Then 


THE  ISLE  JATTE  67 

would  he  speak  with  them  in  the  gate.  But  Nefia,  she 
would  sell  for  him  and  bring  him  the  money  faithfully. 
He  would  only  send  her  where  the  soldiers  of  Colonel 
Cromwell  were  stationed.  Cavalier  towns  were  no  places 
for  pretty  maids.  And  so  she  would  see  many  faces  and 
soon  forget  Captain  Hal  Ludlow,  a  young  soldier  who 
had  very  likely  never  remarked  her  at  all,  and  who  at 
any  rate  would  have  his  hands  full  with  the  inroads  of 
the  King's  men.  For  even  this  solitary  of  the  Fens  knew 
that  in  the  summer  of  1643  the  Puritans  were  hard  put 
to  it  in  every  corner  of  the  land. 

Thus  he  meditated  as  he  lay  behind  his  covert  of  green 
branches,  while  the  golden  plovers  stooped  boldly  above, 
or  alighting  walked  without  mistrust  into  his  carefully 
arranged  nets. 

He  saw  a  hearth  fire  and  a  home  bright  with  love  and 
youth.  He  could  not  expect  to  hold  her  always— he, 
an  old  man,  and  of  no  blood  kin,  but  still — just  long 
enough  to  settle  that  tricksome  heat  of  the  blood  which 
she  called  her  love  for  Captain  Hal  of  the  Ironsides.  He 
was  under  no  great  apprehension  of  immediate  evil.  If 
Hal  had  been  a  young  sprig  of  the  nobility,  a  page  of  the 
King's  household  riding  out  from  Oxford — ah,  then,  he 
would  have  carried  the  girl  off  to  Holland  and  that 
instantly.  But  a  Ludlow,  an  Ironside,  and  the  captain 
of  the  first  Anabaptist  troop — he  felt  that  Nefia  was  as 
safe  as  if  she  were  under  the  protection  of  Oliver  him- 
self. The  Fens  knew  Oliver.  His  fame  had  not  yet  been 
blown  abroad  over  England,  but  bide  a  little.  The  day 
of  Long  Marston  was  near  at  hand. 


VII 
HAL  LEADS  A " FORLORN  " 

THE  dog  days  of  that  year  were  heavy  and  anxious 
for  the  Padiament  men.  Everywhere  except  in 
Cromwell's  country  they  had  been  defeated.  Even 
there,  pressed  from  the  north  by  Newcastle's  foraying 
parties  and  threatened  on  the  south  by  the  coalition  of 
Norfolk  squires  and  a  dashing  raid  from  the  defenders 
of  Basing  House  and  Amersham,  Cromwell  needed  all 
his  men  and  all  his  skill  to  defend  his  own  borders. 

So  far  he  had  succeeded,  but  one  morning  after  a 
courier  had  ridden  in,  he  called  Hal  Ludlow  to  him  in 
his  little  office  in  the  Tithe  Building,  a  mere  construction 
of  timber  and  glass  window  opening  cheerfully  out  upon 
the  balance  and  weigh-beam.  Yet  Colonel  Cromwell 
loved  it  because  of  the  severe  silence  of  the  empty  yard, 
and  the  stark  cleanliness  of  the  deal  boards  which  sur- 
rounded him.  His  helmet  and  sword  belt  hung  on  pegs 
behind  his  chair,  a  cupboard  of  papers  neatly  ranged 
was  at  his  elbow,  and  in  this  place  he  dealt  man  to  man 
with  his  officers  and  army  furnishers, 

"  Hast  ever  been  in  Essex,  lad  ? "  the  commander 
inquired  while  Hal  stood  saluting  on  the  threshold.  Like 
most  men,  even  those  who  had  served  Cromwell  longest 
and  knew  him  best,  he  never  entered  the  "  presence  " 
without  a  long  fortifying  intake  of  the  breath.  Every 
man — even  Earls  like  Manchester  and  Essex  (so 
they  said) — breathed  freer  after  the  East  Country 
Colonel  had  spoken  and  they  knew  what  he  expected  of 
them. 

"  I  know  part  of  Essex — from  Chelmsford  to  the  sea — 

68 


HAL  LEADS  A  "  FORLORN  "  69 

my  father  has  a  property  near  Danbury  which  brings 
him  little  more  than  the  rabbits  I  shoot." 

"  Then  you  are  the  man  for  me,"  said  Cromwell, 
cutting  him  short,  "  you  know  that  Danbury  Towers 
holds  out  for  the  King?  " 

"  Oh,  Lady  Molly,"  the  young  man  smiled,  "  but 
that  is  only  a  girl's  petulance.  The  Essex  men  could 
have  taken  her  defences  in  an  hour  if  they  had  wished, 
but  for  her  father's  sake " 

"Well,  what  for  her  father's  sake?" 

"  I  have  heard  say,  sir,"  stammered  Hal,  "  that  her 
father  being  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter  and  a  good 
Parliament  man,  they  let  her  believe  that  her  foolishness 
was  serious — hoisting  the  King's  standard  and  so  on !  " 

"  I  tell  you,  Captain  Ludlow,  it  is  most  serious." 

"  Not  little  Molly  Woodham  with  whom  I  played  at 
catch-as-catch-can  among  the  sand  pits  of  Rodney 
Dean?" 

"  I  do  not  know  about  '  catch-as-catch-can,'  but  I  do 
know  that  your  little  Molly  has  flown  the  King's  colours 
like  my  bold  Lady  Derby,  and  holds  Danbury  Towers 
with  a  full  garrison  against  the  Parliament.  Now  a 
house  on  a  hill  is  no  great  thing,  but  a  hostile  place  of 
arms  on  Danbury  is  a  mighty  serious  thing.  It  serves 
as  a  rallying  point  for  all  the  raiding  bands.  It  com- 
mands the  sea  at  Maldon  Port  and  the  London  Road  at 
Chelmsford.  More  than  that  your  Lady  Molly  is  to  re- 
ceive and  entertain  a  party  pushing  eastward  from  Ba- 
sing, and  yet  another  of  the  Brown  Octobers  hiving  down 
out  of  Norfolk  where  our  Downham  lads  have  been 
making  it  somewhat  hot  for  them  in  their  manors  and 
pleasances.  I  half  expected  a  break  for  Oxford  one  of 
these  days,  though  I  never  dreamed  they  would  make  it 
by  the  South.  But  the  way  we  rode  furiously  upon  the 
King's  horse  on  Gainsborough  highway  must  have  dis- 
couraged them  from  trying  the  straight  route." 

Now  on  Gainsborough  day  the  Hog  Laners  had  ridden 


TO  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

with  the  Slepe  Troop  and  even  Sam  Squire  had  allowed 
that,  though  still  a  little  ragged  on  the  flanks,  they  had 
come  out  of  the  melee  unashamed. 

"  I  am  going  to  send  you  forward  as  a  '  forlorn,'  "  said 
Cromwell,  using  his  favourite  word  for  an  unsupported 
reconnoitring  party,  "  a  '  forlorn '  to  do  what  you  can 
without  too  great  risk,  and  to  bring  me  back  the  best 
intelligence." 

"  You  honour  me,  sir,"  said  Hal,  bowing  low. 

"  I  honour  you  not,  but  doing  your  duty  may,"  re- 
torted Cromwell  sharply ;  "  you  must  humour  your  troop, 
sir.  You  are  too  young  to  have  that  skill  in  hearts  and 
consciences  which  comes  only  with  labour  and  experi- 
ence." 

"  But  I  shall  do  my  best,  sir,"  said  poor  Hal. 

"  I  doubt  it  not,"  quoth  Cromwell,  "  but  remember 
also  that  your  first  business  is  to  be  obeyed  in  your  troop. 
We  are  good  enough  republicans,  but  the  captain  of  a 
'  forlorn '  must  be  a  dictator.  Take  counsel  with  your 
officers  when  you  feel  your  need,  but  remember  good 
Mr.  Stone's  definition  of  a  Congregational  Church  as  a 
*  speaking  aristocracy  in  the  presence  of  a  silent  democ- 
racy.' But  I  propound  things  that  are  out  of  your 
knowledge,  and  must  be  for  a  score  of  years.  Go  thy 
ways,  Hal.  Draw  fifty  pounds  from  my  auditor  Sam 
Squire,  use  it  carefully  and  account  to  me.  Pay  for 
nothing  that  you  can  get  as  a  free  gift,  but  rob  no  man, 
not  even  an  enemy.  Pay  a  price,  but  see  to  it  that  you 
get  a  pennyworth  for  your  penny." 

"  And  by  which  road  shall  I  advance  ?  "  Hal  asked. 

The  Colonel  stretched  out  a  hand  and  took  up  a  strip 
of  paper  on  which  a  rude  sketch  had  been  traced  with 
distances  and  halting  places  marked  in  with  red  ink. 

"  There  is  your  route  map,  but  use  it  not  slavishly. 
The  leader  of  a  '  forlorn '  needs  judgment.  By  Cam- 
bridge and  Braintree  lies  your  way,  but  leave  much  in  the 
hands  of  the  angels.    I  cannot  foresee  your  obstacles,  but 


HAL  LEADS  A  "  FORLORN  "  71 

have  faith.  Pray,  and  above  all  trust  in  God.  Let  me 
not  waste  my  words,  and  be  sparing  of  your  powder. 
What  fighting  has  to  be  done,  is  best  despatched  as 
quickly  as  may  be  with  the  clean  white  metal." 

So  there  was  a  great  scattering,  Bridget  and  Bess 
Cromwell  in  the  quiet  garden  of  the  Tithe  House  of  Ely 
regretted  the  absence  of  their  best  cavalier  and  most 
faithful  attendant.  Hog  Lane  and  its  womenfolk 
meditated  in  grim  inward  silence  upon  their  lads  riding 
forth  against  the  enemies  of  the  Lord.  Zachary  Else- 
good  openly  fulminated  at  what  he  called  the  shameful 
breach  of  faith.  Hog  Lane  had  been  enlisted  to  support 
and  to  defend  hearth  and  home,  the  Isle  of  Ely  and  the 
Gedney  fens,  but  here  they  were,  the  whole  youth  of 
Hog  Lane,  sent  off  to  another  county,  where  they  might 
be  called  upon  to  company  with  London  trainbands,  yea, 
Presbyterians  and  rank  unbelievers.  But  Hog  Lane  had 
emancipated  itself.  For  Alured  Promise,  Sim  Cross,  and 
Amos  Pall  stood  about  him  and  swore  (as  a  good 
Anabaptist  may,  by  the  lifting  up  of  the  right  hand)  to 
make  him  arm  and  ride  with  them  as  a  reinforcement 
if  they  heard  another  word  of  ill  talk  from  his  mouth. 
Which  speedily  sobered  Master  Zachary,  nevertheless 
he  bode  his  time  being  sorely  discontented  that  he  should 
have  lost  his  old  primacy  of  Hog  Lane,  by  the  incoming 
of  the  new  warlike  notions  and  the  departure  of  the 
'prentices  whom  he  had  kept  so  long  labouring  for  the 
community.  Ever  since  Judas  carried  the  bag,  the  task 
of  cash-keeper  for  a  religious  commonwealth  has  been  an 
ungrateful  one.  The  loss  of  the  'prentices,  the  cost  of 
their  armament,  and  the  decline  in  his  weekly  receipts 
profoundly  mortified  the  Hog  Lane  treasurer.  Still  more 
did  he  feel  his  loss  of  influence  since  Captain  Hal  had 
carried  away  the  flower  of  their  youth  aided  by  the 
example  and  eloquence  of  Zered  Tuby.  The  hearts  of 
the  women  were  with  the  young,  and  even  the  old  men 


72  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

who  congregated  in  Market  Hall  listened  indeed  to  his 
denunciations,  but  not  with  the  old  submission.  Sim 
Cross  especially  was  a  thorn  in  his  side — a  fine  workman 
and  the  fastest  at  putting  sole  and  upper  together  in  all 
Hog  Lane.  Against  the  advice  of  Elsegood,  he  had  been 
made  a  senior  companion  at  twenty-four,  when  he  could 
easily  have  been  kept  other  six  years  a  'prentice,  costing 
nothing  to  the  bag  except  the  meat  and  drink  he  took 
between  his  teeth.  But  now  the  thing  was  done,  and 
Sim  Cross  had  a  following  among  the  younger  men.  He 
even  wanted  to  change  the  name  of  the  society,  prefer- 
ring "  Adult  Baptisers,"  or  simply  "  Baptists "  to  the 
good  old  word  Anabaptists  which,  with  a  history  behind 
it,  had  come  from  Germany  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago. 

On  Isle  Jatte  the  riding  South  of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop 
was  soon  known.  It  was  Nefia  herself  who  brought  the 
news.  Ely  market  day  was  Wednesday,  and  Nena  found 
the  town  talking  of  little  else — talking  as  only  a  lonely 
Cathedral  city  can  talk — without  knowledge,  but  with 
abundant  surmise  and  surprising  assurance  of  state- 
ment. 

And  in  those  days  Ely  was  a  marvellous  place,  the 
headquarters  of  four  regiments  without  counting  the 
black-skirted  troop  of  parsons  who  held  garrison  about 
the  Cathedral  close — the  Isle  Rooks,  as  they  were  called 
by  the  red  coats  of  the  Eastern  Association.  Two  or 
three  times  an  hour  messengers  rode  in  with  a  "  haste- 
post-haste,"  and  a  blast  of  their  horn  to  call  the  guard. 
They  changed  horses  and  rode  on  towards  Lincoln  and 
the  North,  often  so  stiff  of  limb  that  they  had  to  be 
carried  bodily  from  one  beast  to  the  other.  Then  a  nod 
of  set  countenance,  a  lift  of  the  reins,  a  demi-volt,  and  lo, 
the  messenger  of  the  Houses  was  speeding  northward 
to  carry  the  bidding  of  the  Parliament  to  other  cities 
also!  Scores  of  market  women  in  bright  costumes 
lighted  up   the  streets  and  specially   the   open   squares 


HAL  LEADS  A  "  FORLORN  "  73' 

where  stood  the  booths.  The  fisher  wives  were  noisy 
in  red  and  yellow  caracos,  broadly  striped  and  shining 
with  scales.  To  them  were  added  fen  folk  in  sober  butter 
colour,  with  a  scarf  of  blue  tied  about  their  heads,  while 
citizens  gathered  in  little  clusters  to  hear  the  London 
gazettes  read  aloud,  and  merchant  vendors  of  all  movable 
sorts  pushed  about  their  small  hand-carts  and  cried  their 
wares  to  sell  to  the  town's  wives  and  especially  to  the 
soldiers. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  Cathedral  were  to  be  seen  some 
dozen  of  figures  sitting  on  stone  seats,  a  chain  and  ball 
attached  to  each  right  heel,  draggled  feathers  in  their 
hats,  ragged  lace  on  their  coats  and  long  drooping 
moustaches  twisted  upward,  vainly  seeking  for  the  old 
conquering  Mazarin  curl  which  would  not  come.  These 
were  ofificers  and  gentlemen,  prisoners  of  Colonel  Crom- 
well— some  from  Lincoln  leaguer,  but  most  from  the 
nameless  fight  fought  in  the  evening  light  on  the  way 
thither  when  the  royal  horsemen  first  met  the  New  Model, 
greatly  to  their  astonishment.  A  few  of  the  younger  men 
had  recovered  their  air  of  contemptuous  insolence,  and 
looked  out  on  the  mixed  multitude,  making  remarks  to 
one  another,  uttered  suf^ciently  loud  to  reach  the  passers- 
by.  Yet  it  was  noticeable  that  there  were  fewer  of 
these  comments  and  they  were  less  loudly  spoken  when 
one  of  the  dozen  "  Tawnies " — Cromwellian  prison- 
guards,  strode  past  with  musket  in  bandolier  and  hand 
upon  sword  hilt. 

Just  then  Ely  had  a  very  busy  population,  but  that 
was  a  new  thing.  It  had  come  with  the  regiments  and 
would  go  with  them.  The  residents  of  the  old  gabled 
Dutch  houses  would  remain,  also  the  tradesfolk  who 
seemed  to  stand  at  their  shop  doors  most  of  the  day, 
and  to  look  upon  life  in  a  purely  amateur  spirit. 
Strangest  of  all  were  the  piles  of  oyster  shells,  raised  on 
a  pedestal  of  cabbage  stalks,  carrot  tails,  potato  parings, 
to  be  seen  and  smelt  all  along  the  edge  of  the  side  walks. 


74f  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

For  in  this  matter  the-  Cathedral  city  had  kept  its  an- 
cient repute,  and  even  OHver  could  not  quicken  the 
town  carts  to  carry  ofif  the  debris  before  the  close  of  the 
market. 

Soldiers  of  all  arms  swarmed  like  ants,  for  there  were 
eight  thousand  of  them  in  the  city.  Thus,  though 
regiments  were  always  marching  away,  so  great  an 
organiser  was  Cromwell  that  fresh  details  of  recruits 
were  as  constantly  arriving. 

White-capped  Huguenots  and  Flemish  pudding  mak- 
ers cried,  "  Cooked  food !  "  "  Cooked  food,  good  and 
cheap !  "  from  a  score  of  little  wooden  booths,  and  cer- 
tainly to  any  hungry  man  the  smell  of  frying  fish  and 
potatoes  crackling  in  boiling  oil  was  most  appetising. 
Rings  and  chains  of  sausages  hung  in  festoons  a  little 
lower  down,  and  from  these  the  sellers  cut  any  length 
upon  the  exhibition  of  the  necessary  copper  coins.  Even 
"  a  farden's  worth  "  was  not  to  be  despised  by  the  hungry 
Cromwellian  who  found  the  army  "  ordinary  "  less  satis- 
fying than  the  plenty  of  his  mother's  kitchen,  with  its 
cut  loaf  in  the  cupboard  and  the  remains  of  yesterday's 
mutton  in  the  larder. 

Nefia  la  Fain  pushed  her  barrow  along  through  the 
crowd  with  the  easy  confidence  of  many  fair  grounds 
and  market  gatherings,  crying  her  specialty,  "  Plovers — 
plovers  from  the  fen,  golden  and  grey,  tenpence  the  pair. 
Ducks — fat  ducks — wild  ducks,  fresh  from  the  broads, 
sixpence  and  eightpence  !  " 

She  was  widely  known  in  the  army  and  the  providers 
of  troops  were  already  on  the  watch  for  her.  Also  at 
sound  of  her  voice  the  dames  of  good  houses  called  for 
their  baskets  to  go  out  and  salute  "  the  little  Frenchy 
from  Isle  Jatte." 

Neiia  could  sell  when  no  one  else  had  a  chance.  Even 
Dame  Cromwell  had  showed  herself  at  the  window  and 
beckoned  to  the  "  little  Huguenot."  For  all  Ely  knew 
the  story  of  the  lonely  man  of  Isle  Jatte,  and  the  good 


HAL  LEADS  A  "  FORLORN  "  75 

keepers-at-home  among  their  womenfolk  remarked  that 
her  birds  and  fish  were  both  fresh  and  carefully  chosen. 
The  wise  Provencal  never  sent  to  market  his  whole 
catch.  He  had  now  two  mouths  to  feed,  and  he  saw  to 
it  that  his  guest  was  well  nourished.  She  had  come 
to  him  with  eyes  so  great  and  dark  that  they  seemed  to 
overflow  her  white  face,  but  now  she  had  the  round  con- 
tours and  the  brown  cheeks  of  health.  Her  lips  were  red 
and  her  eyes  brilliant  under  the  dark  arch  of  her  brows. 
Her  dress  of  black  cloth  had  been  chosen  for  her  by  the 
Wassailer,  but  the  breadth  of  red  sash  with  which  she 
girt  her  waist  expressed  her  own  savage  taste  in  colour. 

Gainsborough  had  been  retaken,  and  Colonel  Cromwell 
was  back  in  Ely  town.  Nefia  had  seen  him  striding  with 
a  frowning  countenance  in  the  direction  of  his  office, 
while  she  was  standing  on  the  steps  answering  My  Lady's 
questions. 

"  And— the  other — did  you  see  him  ? "  queried  the 
fowler  of  Isle  Jatte.  He  spoke  with  a  certain  hesitation, 
for  on  the  subject  of  Captain  Hal  Ludlow  the  girl  was 
not  always  "  commode  " — or  as  it  might  be,  amenable  to 
advice. 

"  Speak  out  his  name,  Pere  Jacques,"  cried  Nena 
angrily,  "  I  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  Captain 
Henry  Ludlow  rode  away  south  yesterday — some  say 
to  London,  where  he  will  be  sent  to  my  Lord  Fairfax's 
army.    At  any  rate  Ely  town  will  see  him  no  more !  " 

And  suddenly  she  sank  down  on  a  low  chair,  dropped 
her  face  between  her  hands,  and  wept  silently  with  heav- 
ing shoulders.  She  saw  the  warm  summer  atmosphere 
which  filled  the  Market  Square,  the  reposeful  creamy 
blonde  of  her  whitewash  which  has  always  distinguished 
Ely  from  the  other  fen  towns,  and  riding  proudly,  as  she 
loved  to  think  of  him  (and  as  in  her  dreams  she  ever 
saw  him),  at  the  head  of  his  troop,  his  plumed  helmet 
glittering,   breastplated   and  cuirassed,  with   Hereward 


76  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

flicking  his  ears  and  arching  his  flowing  tail !  Ah,  Nefia 
la  Fain  thought  there  never  was  any  sight  like  that  in 
all  the  world.  And  so,  to  do  Master  Hal  Ludlow  justice, 
thought  Bess  Cromwell  and  honourable  women  not  a 
few  of  city  of  Ely  and  elsewhere,  as  the  Hog  Laners  rode 
southward  towards  the  rallying  place  of  the  enemy. 


VIII 

THE  QUAKER  OF  BOREHAM  BARNS 

THE  Lady  Molly  held  Danbury  Towers.    The  house 
was  an  old  one,  with  stout  Plantagenet  walls,  em- 
battled ramparts  and  a  square  Norman  tower  dat- 
ing from  the  wars  of  Stephen. 

The  Colchester  committee  knew  all  about  Lady  Molly, 
"  She  will  weary  of  her  play,"  said  Sir  Thomas  Bar- 
rington,  Parliament  member  for  the  borough,  to  Sir 
William  Masham  Mildmay,  of  Maldon,  and  Harbottle 
Grimstone  concurred.  They  had  all  sat  at  her  father's 
board  and  to  them  the  idea  of  little  Molly  Woodham, 
who  used  to  sit  sucking  sweets  while  they  talked  of 
Ship  Money,  being  dangerous  to  the  Parliament  cause, 
was  frank  cause  for  laughter. 

Why,  it  was  ridiculous  even  to  think  of.  Lord  Wood- 
ham  Walter  was  a  good  Fairfax  man,  a  pillar  of  the 
Association  and  much  thought  of  by  Colonel  Cromwell 
himself. 

But  these  brave  squires,  Cookes,  Calthorps,  Talcots, 
and  Thoroughgoods,  though  excellent  enough  for  raising 
contributions,  were  no  judges  of  military  operations.  The 
importance  of  Danbury  Hill  escaped  them.  A  sterile 
place,  fit  only  for  rabbits  and  peesweeps,  they  thought  it 
— and  as  to  the  castle — why,  a  few  solid  shots  from  the 
new  battering  ordnance  would  soon  bring  it  about 
Molly  Woodham's  pretty  ears — which  would  be  a  pity, 
seeing  that  some  one  of  their  sons  might  prevail  on  the 
heiress  to  attach  herself,  first  to  himself  and  afterwards 
to  the  honest  Parliament  cause. 

77 


78  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

My  Lord  was  too  rich  a  man  and  too  good  a  Fairfaxer 
to  be  annoyed  by  any  severities  against  his  daughter. 

Thus  spoke  and  thought  these  good  neighbours  and 
friends  sitting  safely  in  headquarters  at  Colchester,  or 
mooning  along  side  by  side  in  the  cool  shade  of  West- 
minster Hall.  But  Colonel  Cromwell  was  not  at  ease. 
He  knew  Danbury  Hill.  It  had  been  a  camp  of  every 
invading  force  since  the  Danes  came  up  the  Chelmer  and 
Blackwater  in  order  to  name  it.  It  was  within  striking 
distance  of  London.  The  sea  was  at  hand,  and  French 
cruisers  could  land  or  carry  off  without  interference  un- 
less the  Parliament  could  permanently  occupy  the  coast 
towns  with  force  sufficient  to  prevent  them. 

"  Do  your  duty  well  and  seemly.  Be  not  put  off  with 
excuses.  Be  slow  to  accept  country  talk.  See  every- 
thing at  firsthand.  Spare  your  men  but  be  liberal  of 
yourself !  " — Such  had  been  Colonel  Cromwell's  recom- 
mendations, hastily  scratched  on  the  back  of  his  orders 
and  passports. 

Now  in  a  country  like  Essex,  where  news  spreads  from 
mouth  to  mouth  like  the  lightning  from  the  east  to  west, 
Hal  could  not  hope  to  conceal  the  arrival  of  a  troop  of 
forty  Cromwellian  horse,  all  of  the  New  Model,  fresh 
from  Gainsborough  fight  and  therefore  of  immense  in- 
terest to  the  East  Saxons  of  every  shade  of  opinion. 

"  Cromwell's  '  Ameners '  won't  nivver  stand  up  to 
Rupert's  gentlemen.  He  will  scatter  them  sure-Zy.  For 
now't  but  poor  yeomen  they  be  after  all — a  horse  and 
harness,  a  steel  cap  and  a  tawny  coat — roll  your  eyes  and 
praise  God  through  your  nose — 'tis  well  enough  for 
riding  the  country,  but  when  Rupert  do  come  at  them 
furious,  then  the  man  with  the  fastest  horse  will  praise 
the  Lord  the  loudest." 

This  was  the  verdict  of  the  average  man,  for  no  Iron- 
sides had  as  yet  been  raised  in  Essex — though  later  there 
were  plenty,  with  possibilities  of  good  recruits  even  now, 
for  Essex  has  ever  been  (and  so  remains)  a  land  of  sec- 


THE  QUAKER  OF  BOREHAM  BARNS  79 

taries.  So  mucli  so  that  after  he  had  passed  Witham, 
Zered  Tuby  found  himself  among  friends. 

"  Wet  or  dry?"  he  queried  of  passers  along  the  road, 
when  they  were  serious  in  their  demeanour  and  reserved 
in  manner. 

If  they  looked  at  the  sky  and  began  to  calculate  the 
chances  of  fine  weather  or  foul,  Zered  rode  on  and  left 
them  to  it.  But  if,  as  was  the  case  about  once  in  three 
or  four  trials,  the  man  clasped  his  hands  together  as  high 
as  his  heart,  then  thrust  them  down  with  a  sudden 
plunge,  it  needed  not  the  *'  Wet  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  "  which  issued  from  his  lips  to  tell  Hog  Lane  that 
they  had  met  with  a  brother  Anabaptist. 

"  Buried  with  Him  in  baptism !  "  Zered  would  respond, 
promptly  giving  the  countersign,  and  the  next  moment 
they  would  be  conferring  together  as  to  where  they  were 
likely  to  be  received  as  friends,  where  the  troop  could  lie 
up  a  day  or  two  in  barns  and  stables,  with  good  Ana- 
baptists or  Quaker  brethren  to  bring  them  needful 
provend  and  succour  at  dead  of  night. 

Yet  it  seemed  a  strange  thing  that  even  these  men 
were  without  any  real  tidings  of  what  was  going  forward 
at  Danbury  Towers. 

"  They  be  turning  up  a  fine  deal  of  earth  on  Coombe 
Hill  side — betwixt  East  Common  and  the  Rodney — 
looks  like  rabbiting,  but  'tain't  rabbiting  neither — just 
walls  o'  sand,  most  such  as  little  'uns  make  within  the 
tide-mark." 

And  by  that  single  indication  Hal  Ludlow  knew  that 
Molly  Woodham  was  well  advised,  and  that  she  had  with 
her  some  soldier  of  the  wars  of  Gustavus,  who  knew  that 
war  was  not  all  dashes  and  "  forlorns,"  in  which  hostile 
parties  met  without  intention  and  parted  without  anything 
more  decisive  than  a  few  heads  broken,  as  many  on  one 
side  as  the  other. 

The  matter  would  certainly  become  more  complicated 
if  the  riding  squires  and  their  followers  from  Norfolk,  the 


80  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Brown  Octobers  as  they  were  called,  had  time  to  wait 
for  the  raiders  from  Amersham  and  Oxford,  who, 
cutting  all  the  lines  of  communication  north  of  Lon- 
don, would  settle  upon  Danbury  Hill  as  a  camp  of 
refuge. 

Hal  thought  much  and  deeply,  turning  the  matter  over 
in  his  mind.  He  had  not  previously  taken  the  mission 
very  seriously,  and  though  his  commander's  manner  had 
impressed  him  at  the  time,  yet  that  was  because  an 
interview  with  his  chief  was  always  impressive.  Little 
Molly  Woodham  he  could  not  take  seriously.  He  began 
now  to  think  that  he  had  been  wrong.  Colonel  Cromwell 
had  had  some  surer  intelligence  than  he  had  communi- 
cated to  him.  It  behoved  him  to  see  for  himself,  and  he 
set  himself  to  devise  ways  and  means. 

The  Hog  Lane  Troop  were  stopping  under  the  roof 
of  a  well-reputed  Quaker  merchant,  who  from  a  tanner 
had  developed  into  a  seller  of  grain  and  fodder  to  the 
armies.  Silas  Scale,  a  douce  drab-skirted  man  with 
a  dry  smile  and  an  uncertain  twinkle  in  his  eye,  was  able 
to  lodge  many  troops  in  his  lofts,  nor  (it  must  be  ad- 
mitted) had  Hog  Lane  ever  found  the  fleshpots  of  Egypt 
daintier  or  more  abundant.  The  plenty  which  surrounded 
the  Essex  Quaker  astonished  those  who  had  been  sparsely 
reared  on  the  ordinary  of  the  community  as  arranged  by 
Zachary  Elsegood. 

"  Farmer  Silas  Seale,"  said  Hal,  to  the  master  of  the 
bounds,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  be  burdensome  to  you,  but 
from  the  preparations  in  your  yard  I  gather  that  to- 
morrow you  send  out  a  considerable  deal  of  fodder  and 
wheat  to  Chelmsford." 

"  Yea,  friend,"  said  the  Quaker,  stopping  and  looking 
shrewdly  upon  him,  ^'  in  pursuit  of  my  humble  avoca- 
tions I  take  my  produce  to  the  town  upon  the  day  of 
public  market,  trusting  in  the  Lord  that  my  honest  goods 
shall  be  found  worthy  of  an  honest  price.  For  in  this 
world  a  man  of  conscience  hath  many  claims  upon  hira. 


THE  QUAKER  OF  BOREHAM  BARNS  81 

and  sometimes  the  unexpected  service  cometh  like  a  call 
from  the  Lord." 

Hal  was  a  little  nettled  by  the  suave  vagueness  of  the 
address. 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  and  my  troop  are  an  expense  to 
you,  be  easy,  Friend  Silas.  My  father  and  Colonel 
Cromwell  will  see  your  note  of  account,  and  if  you  have 
any  need  of  present  moneys  for  your  expenses,  I  have  the 
wherewithal  to  satisfy  you." 

The  Quaker  threw  up  his  hands.  "  I  pray  thee  do  not 
mention  a  word  of  expense.  I  am  proud  to  serve  the 
cause.  It  is  dear  to  my  heart  as  the  walls  of  Sion,  as  the 
courts  of  Moriah.  But  to-day  and  every  market  day  it  is 
laid  upon  me  to  walk  into  a  den  of  thieves,  or  as  Daniel 
among  ravening  wild  beasts.  For  upon  Chelmsford 
market  green,  twice  within  a  month,  the  King's  men 
from  Danbury  have  robbed  honest  men  of  their  dues, 
emptied  wains  and  driven  off  cattle  without  so  much  as 
a  single  silver  sixpence  to  be  paid — and  think  thyself 
lucky  if  thy  horsemen  escape  from  such  robbers.  As  for 
me  I  go  in  fear  and  trembling,  praying  the  Lord  that  He 
will  put  it  into  the  heart  of  the  Lady  Molly  to  ride  down 
along  with  them.  For  then  not  so  much  is  taken,  and  a 
price  is  given — not  nearly  enough,  certainly,  but  still  a 
price." 

"  So  you  sell  your  stuff  to  the  enemy  and  yet 
you  call  yourself  a  good  Parliament  man ! — What 
think  you  Colonel  Cromwell  would  say  to  that  if  I  told 
him?" 

The  Quaker  joined  his  hands  devoutly  and  with  more 
than  his  usual  meekness  looked  upon  the  ground.  "  He 
could  but  say  that  I  am  an  unfortunate  and  ill-used 
vessel.  I  must  either  be  robbed  or  take  a  price  insuffi- 
cient, which  is  yet  better  than  nothing.  Besides,  across 
the  Blackwater  I, have  barns  which  serve  Colchester  and 
the  north,  where  come  no  raiding  thieves,  but  honest 
men  and  honest  prices." 


82  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Then  why  do  you  stay  on  here  and  run  all  this 
risk?" 

The  Quaker  drew  his  hands  in  a  full  circle  about 
him  and  his  eyes  took  in  the  barns  and  byres,  the  com- 
bings, the  store-girnels,  the  stack-yards,  and  threshing- 
floors. 

"  Because,  dear  friend,  all  this  would  go  up  in  flames 
to  the  skies  if  I  were  a  week  absent.  I  am  spared  be- 
cause I  have  been  of  use  to  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter. 
The  Lady  Mary  and  her  cavaliers  will  not  let  them 
burn  out  her  father's  friend." 

"  Friend  Silas,"  said  Hal,  breaking  in  upon  him 
abruptly,  "  I  am  coming  with  you  to  Chelmsford  to- 
morrow." 

"  Nay,  friend,  nay,"  the  master  of  Boreham  Barns 
threw  up  his  hands,  "  I  tell  thee  I  am  a  man  of  peace,  and 
no  war  man  at  all.  I  cannot  let  a  wheel  stir  if  you  take 
your  troop  down.  I  speak,  dear  friend,  in  thine  own 
interest.  The  Danburyites  would  drive  thee  out  with 
bloody  sconces,  and  there  would  be  a  great  peace-break- 
ing. Then  the  weight  of  it  all  would  fall  on  me  that  I 
harboured  you  here." 

Hal  stamped  his  foot  with  impatience. 

"  Hear  you,  Mr.  Halting-Between-Two-Opinions,  I 
spoke  not  of  riding  with  the  troop,  but,  since  I  have  some 
small  knack  of  disguises,  of  donning  a  working-smock, 
binding  my  knees  with  straw,  and  taking  in  a  wain — 
which  I  warrant  I  can  do  as  well  as  any  man  about  the 
Barns  of  Boreham !  " 

The  Quaker's  agony  showed  in  his  face.  He  had  not 
been  prepared  for  this  move,  and  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  had  no  objection  ready. 

"  Then  write  a  word  of  cover  for  me  to  my  Lord 
Cromwell."  (He  tried  hard  to  say  as  usual  "  Friend 
Cromwell,"  but  that  was  a  familiarity  which  even  a 
Quaker  was  not  equal  to.) 

"  I  will  write  anything  you  like,"  cried  the  disgusted 


THE  QUAKER  OF  BOREHAM  BARNS  83 

Hal,  "  you  shall  not  be  touched  in  an  inch  of  your  hide 
nor  a  shilling  of  your  purse !  " 

"  I  thank  thee,  friend,  I  do  sincerely  thank  thee.  It 
is  all  for  the  Lord,  dear  friend.  Put  it  in  the  paper  that 
you  went  against  my  advice !  " 

"  There,  sir,"  Hal  thrust  the  paper  at  him  with  con- 
tempt. "  That  will  hold  you  guiltless  if  they  hang  me 
high  as  Haman.  You  are  a  man  whose  charity  begins  at 
home  and  ends  there.  But  if  you  are  disquieted  on  my 
account,  either  by  King  or  Parliament,  that  writing  will 
clear  you  of  responsibility." 

Still  distrustful  the  Quaker  read  aloud  Hal's  testi- 
monial, which  with  some  few  additions  was  as  he  himself 
had  dictated  it. 

"  This  is  to  certify  that  Silas  Searle  of  Boreham,  of  the 
sect  called  Quakers,  an  unworthy  member,  hath  no  de- 
sire but  to  keep  himself  safe,  to  fill  his  pockets  by  honest 
trade.  He  will  hurt  none  lest  he  should  hurt  himself, 
and  he  has  done  his  best  to  dissuade  me  from  reckless 
adventures  while  under  his  roof.  If  aught  happen  to  me, 
I  leave  it  to  Colonel  Cromwell  and  my  father  to  indemnify 
him  fully  for  his  risks  and  expenditures. 

"  H.  Ludlow, 
"  Captain  of  the  8th  troop,  ist  Reg. 
"  of  Colonel  Cromwell's  Horse." 

The  Quaker's  eyes  glistened  with  pleasure  as  he  read. 

The  contemptuous  expressions  in  the  early  part  seemed 
to  pass  him  over,  and  he  hastened  on  to  the  business 
guarantee.  His  face  shone  as  if  he  had  seen  a  vision. 
He  caught  Hal  in  his  arms  and  kissed  him  on  both 
cheeks. 

"  The  spirit  hath  wrought  by  thee,  young  friend — 
what  an  excellent — what  an  ecstatic  phrase — '  to  in- 
demnify him  for  all  his  risks  and  expenditures.'  "    And 


84  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

he  repeated  with  slow  unction,  rolling  the  words  under 
his  tongue  with  a  prolonged  relish  highly  characteristic 
of  the  man — "  '  risks  and  expenditures,'  quoth  he — '  risks 
and  expenditures ' — what  wise  reason,  how  sensibly  ex- 
pressed! Oh,  excellent  young  man,  one  day  a  son  of 
thunder,  anon  like  rain  upon  the  tender  grass  refreshing 
the  heart  of  man — '  risks  and  expenditures/  Oh,  lovely 
Oracle,  sum  of  miracles — as  I  said  before,  most  excellent 


young  man 


IX 

RUPERT  KEEPS  TRYST 

THAT  night  Zered  Tuby  bode  late  at  work  among 
the  men  who  were  to  go  with  the  wains  to 
Chelmsford. 

"  Three  of  the  five  are  Dippers,  all  sound  on  the 
goose,"  he  reported  in  the  grey  light  of  the  morning 
when  he  went  in  to  waken  his  superior  officer.  "  They 
warrant  also  the  fourth  who,  though  no  precisian,  is  a 
sure  man,  so  that  he  drinks  not  too  much  ale.  His  name 
is  Wiseman  Phipps  and  his  father  a  sea  captain  at  Mal- 
don.  But  the  fifth  would  sell  his  mother  for  a  dozen 
shoestrings,  his  name  Doe  Royds.  In  him  is  no  depend- 
ence. A  charge  of  lead  is  the  only  argument  with  such 
as  he !  "  concluded  the  Lieutenant,  shaking  his  shining 
black  curls,  which  though  constantly  cropped,  persisted 
in  wriggling  out  round  the  edges  of  the  smooth  black 
helmet  which  Zered  wore  on  his  head. 

"  As  for  this  Doe  Royds,  I  will  shed  no  man's  blood 
save  in  fair  fight  or  after  an  honest  trial,"  retorted  Hal 
fiercely.  "  But  I  will  tell  you  a  better  way.  I  will  buy 
that  load  from  the  Quaker  and  bid  him  send  this  Royds 
with  it  to  the  Commissioners  at  Colchester,  by  Captain 
Ludlow's  orders.  They  will  think  it  very  kind  of  my 
father  and  I  must  settle  the  bill  as  best  I  can." 

So  said,  so  done.  The  Quaker  was  delighted  to  send 
the  produce  to  Colchester,  and  started  the  suspicious 
Royds  off  with  it,  with  a  list  of  stages  and  stoppages  at 
which  to  rest  the  horses. 

"  I  could  do  much  more  with  these  gentlemen  if  I  had 
premises   nearer  Colchester   Town,"    said   the    Quaker. 

85 


86  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  But  they  have  so  much  fodder  among  their  own  hands 
that  they  can  (if  they  will)  supply  themselves,  and  keep 
a  string  of  convoys  moving  back  and  forth  along  the  road 
to  London  as  well." 

And  so  donning  a  clean  unrufifled  shirt  and  a  smart 
waggoner's  blouse,  with  a  long  whip,  a  pipe  stuck  in  the 
brim  of  his  high-crowned  hat  and  his  hose  tied  with  a 
fresh  plait  of  straw  cunningly  woven,  Hal  Ludlow,  a 
most  handsome  waggoner,  stood  ready  for  the  road. 

They  went  by  Great  Baddow,  halting  under  the  huge 
black  cedar  of  Lebanon  in  the  rector's  garden  which 
throws  so  deep  a  sea-green  shadow  on  the  white  road. 
It  was  slow  going  for  the  remaining  two  miles.  Droves 
of  cattle  plodded  along  in  a  sort  of  placid  stream,  the 
moisture  going  up  from  them  in  clouds.  It  was  the  early 
cool  of  the  day  and  they  were  not  yet  fly-vexed.  So  they 
went  stilly  enough,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left,  unless  a  barking  dog  appearing  among  the  clouds  of 
dust  set  them  horning  one  another.  Sheep  pattered  with 
a  noise  of  hundreds  of  little  feet,  their  backs  even  one 
with  the  other  and  curiously  piebald  from  the  tar  and 
soap  which  had  been  rubbed  into  their  wool.  Here  there 
were  more  dogs,  but  these  wise,  and  of  tempered  enthu- 
siasms— one  eye.  on  their  master  with  his  seven-foot 
crook  and  the  other  watchful  of  any  escape  from  the 
steady  pour  of  the  herd  along  the  King's  highway.  The 
hay-wains  of  Silas  Scale  took  an  hour  and  a  half  to 
cover  the  two  miles  to  Chelmsford  market  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town.  They  were  still  blocking  up  the  nar- 
row lane  which  leads  off  the  High  Street  when  they  heard 
a  shouting  behind  them,  "  Out  of  the  way,  there !  Out  of 
the  way !  " 

The  shepherds  strove  valiantly  to  get  their  droves 
through  the  narrow  gut.  Dogs  barked,  and  frightened 
bands  of  woolly  backs  made  dashes  to  right  and  left. 
Bullocks  disappeared  down  side  streets  with  high  flourish- 
ing heels  and  brought  up  with  a  splash  in  the  waters  of 


RUPERT  KEEPS  TRYST  87 

the  Chelmer,  and  Waggoner  Hal  heard  behind  him  the 
well-known  dip-a-clatter  of  a  squadron  of  horse. 

"  Draw  to  the  side,  you  fools,"  cried  Tom  the  foreman 
in  a  terrified  voice  from  the  rear. 

"  Why,  what  can  they  do  ?  "  said  Hal.  "  A  horse  troop 
cannot  override  a  string  of  loaded  hay-wains." 

"  No,  but  they  have  their  matches,  and  if  we  counter 
them  they  will  think  nothing  of  setting  our  loads  alight." 

There  was  still  noise  and  tumult  in  the  rear,  but  by 
a  combined  forward  movement  the  waggoners  managed 
to  get  their  M^ains  clear  of  the  narrow  gorge  of  houses 
before  a  file  of  gay  riders  came  dashing  by.  They  rode 
sword  in  hand,  but  they  had  only  been  using  the  flat, 
smiting  and  laughing,  for  their  steel  was  undimmed,  and 
they  carried  the  wide  High  Street  with  a  gallant  shout. 

On  a  beautiful  white  mare  rode  a  lady,  so  young  indeed 
as  to  be  only  a  girl,  but  of  a  reckless  beauty  and  bearing 
which  caressed  the  eye. 

"  The  lady — the  Lady  Molly !  "  came  from  every  side. 
And  even  in  that  douce  town  so  near  to  the  Parliament 
headquarters,  and  with  a  commerce  which  depended  upon 
the  goodwill  of  Westminster,  Lady  Molly,  riding  out 
from  her  extemporised  fortress  of  Danbury,  gathered  up 
the  popular  applause.  She  was  habited  in  the  blue-and- 
white,  which  were  the  colours  of  King  Charles  of  Essex, 
and  were  more  studiously  worn  since  the  issue  of  the  red 
coats  to  the  Parliament  armies.  A  black  hat  with  wide 
brim  round  which  curled  a  great  white  feather  shaded 
her  face,  which  was  oval  and  a  little  tanned  with  the  sun. 
But  the  blood  ran  red  in  her  cheeks.  Her  lips  were 
geranium-red,  and  her  eyes  shone  dark  blue  and  master- 
ful under  the  ripples  and  lovelocks  of  her  fair  hair. 

Behind  came  riding  two  by  two  a  score  of  gentlemen, 
all  young,  bravely  mounted,  laughing  and  talking  among 
each  other.  Immediately  behind  the  Lady  Molly,  and 
separating  her  from  the  joyous  rout,  rode  a  man  of  fifty- 
five,  grizzle-haired  and  steel-capped  like  a  Roundhead, 


88  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

a  deep  scar  on  his  left  cheek  and  his  lips  firmly  com- 
pressed. To  this  man  alone  the  Lady  Molly  spoke, 
sometimes  carelessly  over  her  shoulder,  and  sometimes 
reining  in  her  white  mare  to  let  him  come  up  with  her. 

It  seemed  to  Hal  that  as  the  girl's  glance  travelled  along 
the  line  of  waggons  and  waggoners,  each  at  the  head  of 
his  team,  her  eyes  observed  him  with  a  certain  surprise. 
It  was  not  possible  that  she  could  recognise  him  in  his 
teamster's  disguise,  nor  yet  remember  the  long  gritty 
days  they  used  to  spend  in  the  Ashford  gravel-pits, 
returning  at  night,  happy  and  guilty,  with  sand  in  their 
eyes  and  mouths,  crunching  in  their  teeth,  and  coursing 
raspingly  between  their  skins  and  their  most  intimate 
garments.  For  these  sins  of  extreme  youth  they  had 
been  warmly  received,  smacked,  washed,  and  sent  to  bed. 

Nevertheless  though  he  breathed  more  freely,  the 
fourth  waggoner  of  Quaker  Scale's  defile  looked  after 
the  girl  with  a  curious  anger.  She  had  escaped  him. 
She  was  fighting  for  the  tyrant.  All  that  roistering  train 
were  doubtless  her  slaves,  or  at  least  telling  her  so,  daily 
and  hourly,  and  she  repaying  them  with  smiles  and 
encouragements.  He  remembered  how  once  in  Stanger's 
spinny  they  had  fallen  out,  and  how,  the  spirit  of  chivalry 
still  dormant  within  him,  he  had  beaten  her,  while  she 
scratched  his  face  and  threw  handfuls  of  sand  in  his  eyes. 
She  seemed  in  some  way  to  belong  to  him  and  he  felt 
a  strong  desire  to  run  in  upon  her,  snatch  her  bridle-rein 
and  carry  her  home  to  her  father  again  to  be  beaten  and 
locked  up. 

If  Hal  had  been  a  little  older,  he  would  have  laughed 
at  his  own  heat.  What,  after  all,  did  he  know  of  the 
causes  of  quarrel?  He  wanted  soldiership  and  adventure 
and  it  was  easiest  to  find  them  on  the  side  he  had  chosen. 
Sons  in  those  times  went  with  their  fathers.  As  for  the 
daughters  they  did  not  count,  except  in  the  preparing 
of  lint  and  making  of  garments  for  the  fighters. 

Loud  Tom  Christopher,  the  Quaker's  oversman,  who 


RUPERT  KEEPS  TRYST  89 

on  difficult  hills  could  shout  Bible  texts  so  that  the  very- 
beasts  took  them  for  oaths,  swept  up  the  line. 

"  Get  into  the  Market  Square,  I  tell  'ee !  Lord  help 
us  if  their  sutlers  come  upon  us.  They  will  cut  us  down 
and  drive  off  the  horses.  Get  into  motion,  there !  Quick 
with  you,  Tawny!  Was  it  like  this  you  spurred  after 
Gainsborough  fight?  If  so,  small  wonder  that  we  lost 
the  town." 

The  line  of  laden  waggons  ground  and  oscillated, 
creaking  and  jolting  across  the  deep-rutted  irregular 
pavements  into  the  busy  square  in  which  the  corn-market 
was  held.  They  were  guided  to  the  stance  which  had 
been  kept  for  them.  It  was  the  angle  high  to  the  left 
above  the  water  gate,  a  spot  called  to  this  day  Quaker's 
Corner,  though  the  fame  of  Silas  Scale  of  Boreham 
Barns  has  long  since  died  out  in  the  sleepy  town. 

Here  also  were  hawkers  of  all  sorts,  but  they  were 
far  less  free  to  ply  their  trade  than  on  the  streets  of  Ely. 
Waggoners  cut  at  them  with  long  whips  for  sliding  under 
the  bellies  of  the  horses  on  the  way  to  a  possible  customer. 
Here  Hal  had  his  hands  full  in  guiding  his  pair  of  excited 
horses  clear  of  the  waggons.  These  remained  propped 
up  on  the  forked  branches  which  had  been  swung  behind 
for  the  purpose  of  supporting  the  loads.  But  he  was 
soon  at  liberty.  Loud  Tom  Christopher  would  attend  to 
his  team.  He  must  see  all  that  there  was  to  be  seen.  He 
desired  especially  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  the  Lady 
Molly.  It  would  be  a  certain  disaster  if  she  recognised 
him,  yet,  merely  because  the  colour  of  her  eyes  puzzled 
him — whether  deep  sea-green  or  sapphire-blue  he  could 
not  have  been  sure — he  must  needs  seek  her  out.  What 
a  fool  he  had  been  not  to  have  made  sure  during  those 
long  days  when  they  played  together.  But  then  the 
colour  of  eyes  mattered  far  less  to  them  than  the  fair 
division  of  a  handful  of  hazel  nuts  or  a  Woodham  Walter 
pippin  equitably  discussed  in  alternate  bites. 

But  though  he  took  his  stand  in  the  most  commanding 


90  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

positions  he  could  see  nothing  of  the  Danbury  cavaliers. 
They  had  merely  passed  through  the  town  and  ridden  out 
along  the  London  road.  They  must  have  been  very 
certain  of  not  being  disturbed,  or  they  would  never  have 
come  in  such  small  numbers.  Hal  thought  of  what  would 
have  happened  if  they  had  come  face  to  face  with  his 
dear  Hog  Laners.  For  a  moment  he  wished  himself  back 
at  Boreham.  It  would  be  no  small  feat  to  cut  them  to 
pieces  before  their  raiding  comrades  from  Oxford  or 
Norfolk  could  reinforce  them. 

"  But  then  (thought  Hal  guiltily)  what  of  Little  Molly 
Woodham  ?  " 

It  was  taking  an  unfair  advantage.  How  could  any 
man  order  a  charge  against  an  unequal  number  of  horse 
commanded  by  a  woman — most  of  all,  by  the  Lady 
Molly? 

Presently  Hal  was  diverted  from  this  thought  by  the 
sight  of  the  street  sellers  of  leaflets  and  pamphlets. 
Before  the  coming  of  the  troop  from  Danbury  fort,  they 
had  been  littering  their  booths  with  ballads  and  pas- 
quinades against  the  King,  A  scurrilous  ballad  on  the 
Lady  Molly  (called  "The  Bantam  Hen")  was  having 
a  great  sale,  and  the  vendors  called  "  Churchyard  Bum- 
mers "  from  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  where  they  got  their 
supplies  'from  the  booksellers,  were  singing  "  The 
Bantam  Hen  "  so  as  to  be  heard  halfway  to  Baddow.  But 
at  the  first  shout  of  "  In  the  King's  name — make  way !  " 
the  London  tracts  were  stowed  away,  and  the  rascals 
were  out  crying,  "  Our  King  by  Right  is  King  by  Might." 

"  Down  dogs.  Parliament  dogs, 
Barringtons  all  lie  down. 
God  save  the  King  and  bring  him  in, 
So  say  the  cap  and  gown." 

These  being  contraband,  were  naturally  more  expen- 
sive. The  demand  for  them  was  limited  in  the  Eastern 
counties,  and  the  fear  of  cart-tail  scourgings,  together 
with   the    difficulty    of   procuring   them    from    Oxford, 


RUPERT  KEEPS  TRYST  91 

naturally  raised  the  prices.  But  the  young  fellows  in  the 
rear  of  the  royalist  array  were  free  with  their  money. 
They  accepted  the  pasquinades  by  the  handful,  and  tossed 
their  silver  pieces  on  the  paving  stones  with  a  gay  "  Pay 
yourselves,"  whereupon  a  dozen  rascals  would  be  seen 
grappling  for  the  money  in  the  dust.  If  one  strong 
enough  to  keep  it  managed  to  secure  the  prize,  as  was 
mostly  the  case,  he  would  hold  it  fleeringly  over  his  head. 
But  here  and  there  a  man  hard  pressed  would  pop  the 
money  into  his  mouth  ready  to  be  swallowed,  and  stand  at 
bay  with  bared  teeth  and  shining  knife  in  some  angle  of 
the  wall.  If  the  threatened  one  could  keep  off  the  first 
rush  he  was  fairly  safe.  The  mob  was  too  busy,  business 
too  brisk.  They  passed  on  to  other  matters  lest  they 
should  lose  their  market. 

But  as  soon  as  the  last  King's  hoof  clattered  through 
City  Port  out  upon  the  London  Road,  the  royalist  libels 
were  put  away  and  the  flying  stationers  were  back  again 
crying,  "  The  Revenge  of  God  against  Tyrants  1 "  "  We'll 
crop  their  heads  who  cropped  our  ears !  "  "  Papists 
Pilloried  !  "  "  Zion's  Complaint,"  "  The  Commoners  of 
England,"  and  "  The  Lord,  His  Banqueting  House." 

Without  well  knowing  why,  Waggoner  Hal  found 
himself  possessed  of  "  Doctor  George  Brown's  Prophecy 
Concerning  the  Jesuits,"  "  A  Treatise  on  the  Signification 
of  Moles  on  any  part  of  the  Body,"  a  fine  new  song  en- 
titled, "  The  Whimsical  Wife,"  with  the  tune  thereto. 
The  husband  changes  work  with  his  wife  for  one  day,  and 
in  consequence — 

"  The  pigs  they  wanted  service, 

They  made  their  wants  be  heard — 
They  broke  into  the  dairy, 

And  served  themselves  instead. 

"  The  cheese  and  butter  suifered 
Before  he  got  them  out, 
The  cans  of  viilk  they  overset 
And  dashed  the  cream  about!" 


92  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

The  houses  of  Chelmsford  are  wooden-fronted  and  with 
bulging  foreheads  look  down  on  the  busy  market-place. 
Under  these  the  Quaker  moved  quietly  from  one  cus- 
tomer to  another,  and  in  an  hour  the  wains  were  un- 
loaded and  their  whole  contents  stored  in  the  granaries 
of  the  merchants  to  wait  a  chance  of  being  carried  to 
Smithfield  and  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  Hal  began  to  regret 
that  he  had  come  so  far  to  see  so  little  when  the  idea 
came  to  him  to  follow  in  the  direction  which  had  been 
taken  by  the  royalist  horse.  He  gained  a  rising  ground 
outside  the  town,  and  there  from  a  little  flowery  knoll  he 
saw  a  wonderful  sight.  The  raiders  from  the  West 
were  arriving.  Squadrons  of  them  rode  on  the  high 
ground  above  the  river,  their  plumes  blowing  out  in  the 
dusty  breeze  which  was  raised  by  the  feet  of  the  horses. 
They  were  coming  in  fast,  and  Hal  had  not  even  time 
to  get  back  before  the  first  riders  were  abreast  of  him. 
The  Lady  Molly  was  talking  eagerly  with  a  tall  man  of 
middle  age,  whom  Hal  thought  to  resemble  Colonel 
Cromwell.  He  also  wore  a  red  Montero  cap  like  that 
which,  when  wearied  with  his  helmet,  Oliver  would  often 
put  on. 

But  by  the  thick  High  German  voice  and  the  pierc- 
ing restless  eyes,  Hal  presently  made  sure  that  this 
could  be  no  other  than  Prince  Robber — Rupert  of  the 
Rhine. 

The  Prince  looked  up  and  seeing  Hal  stand  on  his 
knoll,  called  upon  him  to  come  forward. 

"  You  are  a  fine  stout  fellow,"  he  said  good-humouredly 
enough ;  "  are  you  content  to  take  service  with  me, 
waggoner? " 

"  I  am  already  in  good  service,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  said 
Hal  promptly,  knowing  that  he  must  answer  quickly  to 
such  a  questioner. 

"  In  whose  service,  sirrah?  " 

"  In  that  of  Master  Scale,  the  Quaker,  so  please  your 
highness." 


RUPERT  KEEPS  TRYST  93 

**  Serve  a  Quaker  when  you  can  serve  your  King — 
never.  Bring  up  a  led  horse.  Now  let  me  see  if  you  can 
get  astride  it.  Jack  Holmby,  guard  him  and  put  a  bullet 
through  his  back  if  he  tries  to  play  us  false." 

"  Prince,"  said  the  Lady  Molly,  reaching  out  a  gloved 
hand  to  touch  his  sleeve,  "  I  am  short  of  stout  men. 
Indeed,  I  have  far  more  need  than  you.  I  think  I  know 
the  lad's  face.  He  is  of  our  neighbourhood.  Give  him 
to  me,  and  I  warrant  that  he  shall  not  seek  to  escape 
from  my  servitude." 

"  He  would  be  a  fool  to  try,"  cried  the  hearty  Rhine- 
lander.  "  I  know  at  least  one  who  would  be  content  to 
be  your  slave  !  " 

And  he  swept  the  red  Montero  in  a  fine  curve  to  his 
knee. 

The  Lady  Molly  nodded  a  saucy  sidelong  acknowl- 
edgment, more  with  her  chin  than  with  her  head,  took 
the  Prince's  gift  of  Hal  for  granted,  and  swept  onward 
to  the  town  with  fifteen  hundred  of  the  best  cavalry  in 
Britain  behind  her.  Rupert's  men  had  never  been 
vanquished  and  the  proud  consciousness  of  the  fact 
showed  in  their  gallant  bearing,  in  the  care  of  their 
accoutrement,  their  white  and  blue  ribbons  and  plumed 
hats,  and  their  ringlets  dancing  on  their  shoulders  like 
a  girl's  lovelocks.  The  officers  were  free  with  their 
horses,  for  they  looked  on  each  skirmish  as  an  oppor- 
tunity of  remounting  themselves  or  their  troop.  Besides, 
whether  in  friendly  or  hostile  territory,  a  horse  was  ahorse 
to  be  requisitioned  in  the  name  of  the  King  and  Prince 
Rupert.  If  the  owner  chose  to  lament,  it  showed  he  was 
a  knave  and  a  rebel  at  heart,  and  as  such  liable  to  be 
strung  up  to  the  nearest  tree.  But  at  this  time  Rupert's 
brigade  had  not  met  with  Colonel  Cromwell  and  the  new 
type  of  cavalryman  he  was  making  out  of  the  tawny- 
coated  levies  of  the  fens.  They  had  indeed  heard  vague 
rumours  of  what  was  going  on.  And  they  had  been 
pleased  to  laugh.    To  them  Colonel  Cromwell  was  "  the 


94.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Huntingdon  brewer "  and  his  Ironsides  "  the  brewer's 
draymen."  But  there  came  a  day  when  they  learned 
better,  and  then  no  man  was  quicker  than  Rupert  of 
the  Rhine  to  uphold  the  transcendent  merits  of  the  New 
Model. 

Meantime  they  rode  on  through  the  town.  They 
clamoured  at  the  "  White  Horse "  and  the  "  King's 
Head  "  till  several  barrels  of  ale  were  rolled  out  and  an 
army  of  extemporised  drawers  willingly  served  them. 
For  Rupert  would  allow  no  man  out  of  his  saddle. 

Hal  managed,  however,  to  attract  the  attention  of 
Loud  Tom,  who,  seeing  him  in  such  company,  took  one 
look  at  his  haltered  feet  and  immediately  started  for 
Boreham  Barns  to  warn  the  Hog  Laners  of  the  capture 
of  their  Captain.  They  could  not  hope  to  rescue  him  by 
direct  attack,  but  at  least  the  outhouses  of  so  uncertain 
a  man  as  his  master  was  no  place  for  a  troop  of  good 
Anabaptists.  So  long  before  dusk  Zered  had  his  men  safe 
on  the  woody  slopes  beyond  Witham,  whence  he  could 
keep  a  watch  upon  the  enemy  and  wait  for  the  return  of 
Captain  Hal. 

For  such  was  Hog  Lane's  belief  in  their  chief,  that  no 
man  believed  he  had  really  been  captured.  He  had  let 
himself  be  taken  in  order  to  gain  information — so  much 
was  possible  and  even  likely — but  he  would  come  back 
to  lead  them  when  he  knew  all  that  Colonel  Cromwell  had 
sent  him  to  find  out. 

The  Prince  detached  fifty  men  to  bring  in  supplies. 
They  seized  the  hay  and  oats  which  had  changed  hands 
that  day,  sweeping  the  granaries  of  the  London  expedi- 
tioners  as  clean  as  a  picked  bone.  They  did  not,  however, 
come  up  with  the  Quaker,  who  had  ridden  off  as  soon  as 
he  had  his  money  safe  in  pouch.  Nor  did  they  find  Silas 
Scale's  horses,  for  Loud  Tom  had  gotten  them  safely 
across  the  water.  The  hay-v.?ains  stood  abandoned  in  the 
Quaker's  Corner  of  the  Market  Square  and  several  of 
these  were  taken,  horsed  with  the  impressed  teams  of 


RUPERT  KEEPS  TRYST  95 

less  wise  and  foreseeing  men,  and  driven  ofif  to  be  re- 
loaded with  the  provend  they  had  brought  to  town  in 
the  morning. 

Meanwhile  Hal,  the  waggoner  newly  recruited  for  the 
service  of  his  Majesty  and  Prince  Rupert,  rode  calmly  on 
in  the  rear  of  the  array  and  kept  his  eyes  about  him. 
There  was  a  curious  lack  of  discipline  about  the  cavaliers, 
which  contrasted  with  the  grim  punctiliousness  of  the 
Ironside  troops.  But  though  they  shouted  and  sang  on 
the  march  when  it  seemed  good  to  them,  and  paid  little 
heed  to  their  officers,  Hal  knew  that  it  would  be  very 
different  on  the  day  of  battle.  Then  they  would  strike 
together  with  the  force  and  unity  of  a  sledge-hammer. 
The  men  jested  with  their  captains  or  attracted  his, 
attention  by  a  shouted  nickname,  because  they  were  all 
gentlemen,  and  as  capable  as  he  of  holding  his  Majesty's 
Commission.  They  had  one  Chief  whom  they  followed 
and  whose  name  they  bore.  They  were  Rupert's  men, 
and  they  did  right  to  vaunt  him  an  incomparable  cavalry 
leader.  For  so  he  was  till  the  day  he  met  someone 
stronger  than  he,  who  to  his  dash  and  vigour  added 
the  steadiness  which  he  always  lacked  in  the  hour  of 
victory. 

The  House  of  Danbury  Towers  stood  a  little  east  of  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  clear  of  the  village  towards  Runsel,  and 
to  this  day  an  intricate  labyrinth  of  sunken  lanes,  filled 
in  summer  with  wild  rose  and  honeysuckle,  indicates  the 
extent  and  direction  of  Lady  Molly's  principal  defences. 
Her  saturnine  chief  of  staff,  Septimus  Hepburn,  fresh 
from  his  experience  of  the  great  Gustavus,  distrusted 
mere  stone-and-lime  unsupported  by  trenches  and  earth- 
works. So  that  under  his  care  Danbury  Towers  became 
by  far  the  most  strongly  entrenched  position  in  East 
England  south  of  the  Trent. 

The  buildings  about  the  castle,  already  amply  garri- 
soned, could  not  contain  a  third  of  the  force  which  had 
ridden  across  country  from  Amersham.    The  neighbour- 


96  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

ing  farms  and  their  chief  barns  and  outbuildings,  the 
village  of  Danbury,  straggling  pleasantly  down  from  its 
yellow  church  spire,  the  vicarage  among  the  trees,  the 
hamlets  of  Runsel  and  Horseshoe  Forge,  were  soon  filled 
to  overflowing.  When  the  Norfolk  Brown  Octobers 
came  in,  they  would  need,  in  the  absence  of  tents,  to  go 
farther  afield.  And  because  of  this  Quaker  Scale  was  at 
that  moment  clearing  his  barns  and  lofts  of  all  traces  of 
their  recent  Roundhead  guests.  Loud  Tom  was  away 
seeing  Lieutenant  Tuby  into  a  place  of  retirement,  and 
arranging  with  the  neighbouring  squires,  all  good  Par- 
liament men,  to  keep  them  well  supplied.  These  he  found 
much  occupied  with  cattle-driving,  digging,  and  treasure- 
hiding.  For  the  news  that  Prince  Rupert  was  in  the  land 
laid  the  fear  of  despoilment  upon  every  man.  Still,  they 
would  do  what  they  could.  Colonel  Cromwell  would  not 
forget  them.  It  was  good  hearing  that  they  had  already 
one  troop  of  his  horse  among  them.  Not  far  off  and 
where?  But  Loud  Tom  was  now  suddenly  Silent  Tom. 
He  did  not  tell  a  soul  where  he  had  left  Zered  and  his 
men.  The  provend  was  to  be  delivered  at  the  Bishop's 
Ford  early  every  morning,  unless  the  enemy  should  be  in 
the  neighbourhood.  So  all  along  Witham  Heights  a 
sharp  watch  was  set,  while  the  Hog  Laners  kept  their 
arms  bright,  their  powder  dry,  and  prayed  God  for  the 
swift  return  of  their  Captain. 


"A 


X 

MOLLY  HATES  HAL 

**  \  MERRY  welcome,  friend  Hal,"  said  a  clear  mel- 
low voice,  a  throaty  contralto,  as  the  false  wag- 
goner shut  the  door  behind  him.  The  room  was 
dusky  and  for  a  moment  Hal  Ludlow,  coming  out  of  the 
sun-glare,  did  not  see  the  lissom  girlish  figure  seated  on 
the  centre  table,  busy  with  the  cleaning  of  a  pair  of  pis- 
tols, "  What  do  you  here,  old  comrade  ?  Why  are  you 
not  with  your  father  at  Ely  (or  is  it  Cambridge)  finding 
money  for  the  King's  enemies  ?  " 

Up  to  this  moment  Hal  had  cherished  a  belief  that 
Lady  Molly  had  not  recognised  him,  but  he  was  ready 
and  unabashed.  He  faced  the  situation  at  once.  He  was 
a  spy,  and  if  Rupert  got  wind  of  him,  he  would  be  strung 
up  to  the  nearest  tree  without  benefit  of  clergy. 

"  I  heard  of  my  friend  little  Molly  Woodham — how 
she  had  fallen  among  bad  company.  So  I  came  south- 
ward to  see  her,  thinking  I  might  be  of  use  to  her." 

The  girl  shook  her  head  energetically.  "  Tell  the  truth, 
Hal,  if  so  be  you  can,"  she  said  reproachfully.  "  You 
were  ever  a  bully  and  abused  me  shamefully,  but  you 
had  not  used  to  tell  lies.  You  came  to  spy  us  out,  to 
carry  back  tidings  of  our  weakness  and  isolation  to 
Colonel  Cromwell !  " 

In  fact,  Lady  Molly  accused  Hal  of  the  exact  identical 
thing  which  he  had  been  sent  to  do.  But  mark  the  guile 
of  man — the  way  of  a  man  with  a  maid,  which  in  his 
day  Solomon  found  so  mysterious. 

Hal,  seeing  no  one  in  the  room  except  their  two  selves, 

97 


98  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

stepped  lightly  across  the  carpet,  laid  one  hand  lightly 
on  her  shoulder  as  he  had  been  wont  to  do. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  Sunday  we  stayed  all  day  in 
Speakman's  Spinny  and  watched  the  paternals  going  to 
church  and  the  servants  scouring  the  country  for  us? 
Did  I  betray  you  then?  Who  was  it  who  received  the 
blame  and  took  the  whipping?  Do  you  think  that  Hal 
Ludlow  would  do  different  now  ?  " 

She  shivered  a  little  and  then  suddenly  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  No,  I  do  not  beheve  it  of  you,  Hal !  " 

The  young  man  breathed  more  freely.  He  was  no 
better  than  other  young  fellows  of  his  age  and  upbringing, 
and  life  smiled  upon  him.  He  was  pleased  with  it. 
He  would  (and  did)  risk  his  hfe  upon  the  chance  of 
battle,  but  to  be  hanged  as  a  spy,  while  his  troop  waited 
for  his  return  a  mile  or  two  away,  sent  a  shuddering 
chill  to  his  marrow. 

"  But  why  this  waggoner's  dress  ? "  she  went  on. 
"  Why  did  you  not  ride  up  to  the  Towers  like  a  gentle- 
man? " 

"  Would  I  have  been  admitted — I  the  son  of  Mr.  Corn- 
missionary  Ludlow,  nephew  of  Sir  Edmund  the  republi- 
can? Why,  I  should  never  have  gotten  within  five 
hundred  yards  of  you,  with  all  the  squirekins  of  the  East 
Corner  about  you.  Do  you  want  to  put  a  rope  about  my 
neck?  Let  me  be  waggoner  Hal,  at  your  service,  and 
we  shall  understand  one  another." 

"  Will  you,  then,  serve  the  King?  "  She  looked  at  him 
with  a  certain  appeal  to  which  he  answered  promptly. 

"  No,  little  Molly,  I  am  of  your  father's  opinion,  but 
I  will  serve  you  and  be  faithful.  Forgive  me,  Molly,  I 
would  give  all  I  possessed  to  get  out  of  this.  I  do  not 
reproach  you,  but  by  the  Lord  I  cannot  guess  what  set 
you  upon  this  folly " 

"  Take  care  what  you  say !  "  She  stood  up,  the  pistol 
she  had  been  polishing  still  in  her  hand,  so  suddenly  that 


MOLLY  HATES  HAL  99 

Hal  instinctively  gave  back  a  step.     "  I  allow  no  one  to 
criticise  my  acts — not  even  my  father,  how  much  less 


you 


I  " 


"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Molly,"  he  answered, 
smiling;  "  though  you  look  just  as  you  looked  when  you 
scratched  my  face.  You  can  do  it  and  welcome  if  it  will 
relieve  your  feelings.  I  promise  not  to  return  you  a  black 
eye  this  time.  But  I  give  you  fair  warning,  my  Lady 
Molly,  if  you  keep  me  here  when  I  should  be  at  my  work, 
I  promise  and  vow  to  carry  you  off  as  soon  as  I  can — aye, 
if  it  be  packed  like  a  truss  of  hay  across  my  saddle-bow." 

The  girl  had  moved  towards  the  window  and  was  look- 
ing out.  At  Hal's  threat  she  broke  into  a  ripple  of 
laughter,  rather  deep  than  loud  or  clear,  like  water  run- 
ning underground.  Her  arm  swept  the  circle  of  the 
great  encampment. 

"Take  me  from  the  midst  of  all  these — my  good  Hal  ? 
Has  dotage  come  upon  you  so  soon  ?  " 

"  I  dote,"  said  Hal,  with  some  hypocrisy,  "  'tis  true, 
I  own.  But  this  is  no  dotage.  Or  rather  I  dote  so  bravely 
that  ere  long  I  shall  take  you  back  out  of  this  hurly-burly, 
where  designing  men  are  making  a  figure-head  of  you." 

The  girl  moved  angrily  away,  with  a  movement  of  the 
hand  which  signified  that  the  interview  was  over.  But 
Hal  Ludlow  was  not  the  man  to  be  so  put  down,  or  to 
forego  any  advantage  with  a  woman.  He  moved  swiftly 
between  her  and  the  door. 

"  Behave  now,  Molly,  or  I  shall  twist  your  arm,"  he 
said ;  "  you  know  you  always  were  a  coward  about 
pain!  " 

"  You  are  the  same  coward  you  always  were,  Hal 
Ludlow,  and  you  serve  me  so  because  you  know  I  will 
not  have  you  hanged  as  a  spy,  as  is  my  duty." 

"  Nay,  hang  me  if  you  like,  Molly,  but  remember  that 
if  you  do,  you  will  never  know  how  nice  it  is  to  be  run 
away  with,  a  man's  arm  about  your  waist — a  man  who 
loves  you,  and  whom  you  love " 


100  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  I  do  not  love  you,  Hal  Ludlow,  I  hate  you " 

"  Whom  you  love  most  confoundly,  and  who  is  going 
to  teach  you  how  to  love  him  ten  thousand  times  better ! 
Hang  me  high  as  Haman,  and  you  shall  never  know  that, 
little  Molly !  " 

He  let  go  her  arm  suddenly  and  went  out,  shutting  the 
door  behind  him  with  a  masterful  bang,  which  in  turn 
aggravated  the  girl  so  much  that  she  rushed  to  open  it 
and  to  call  down  the  stairs  after  him. 

"  I  hate  you,  Hal  Ludlow.  I  never  hated  any  man  so 
much !  " 

Hal  Ludlow  owned  to  himself,  as  he  rode  away  from 
the  outer  defences  of  Danbury  Towers,  that  he  did  not 
know  he  could  be  quite  so  much  of  a  brute  to  any  woman. 
Yet  somehow  it  seemed  the  right  way  to  treat  little  Molly 
Woodham,  when  she  was  bent  on  making  a  fool  of  her- 
self. He  had  always  bullied  her  more  than  a  little  and  it 
came  natural  somehow  now — natural  and  useful. 

He  had  seen  all  that  he  came  to  see.  He  had  been 
hail-fellow-well-met  with  the  Oxford  raiders.  Though 
an  abstemious  man  by  nature  he  had  drunk  down  squad 
after  squad  of  Brown  Octobers.  His  head  had  buzzed, 
but  nevertheless  he  had  sat  among  them  with  eyes  and 
ears  wide  open  for  every  hint  of  plan  or  disclosure  of 
numbers  which  might  be  of  use  to  his  general. 

Betraying  the  woman  who  was  keeping  faith  with  him 
— who  had  only  to  speak  the  word  "  spy  "  to  hang  him  ? 
No,  certainly  not,  the  thought  that  he  could  possibly  be 
acting  thus  never  struck  him.  Hal  knew  better,  and  was, 
in  fact,  never  more  content  with  himself  than  during 
those  days  and  nights  which  he  spent  at  the  Towers, 
sounding  the  spirit  of  the  soldiers,  and  making  himself 
familiar  with  every  detail  of  the  defences.  It  was  all  for 
the  sake  of  little  Molly  with  whom  he  had  played,  who 
had  scratched  his  face,  and  told  him  a  score  of  times 
what  a  bold,  bad,  and  utterly  detestable  boy  he  was.    He 


MOLLY  HATES  HAL  101 

knew  that  he  was  in  no  way  betraying  Molly.  Contrari- 
wise, he  was  going-  to  save  her.  This  he  had  often  done 
before  when  she  had  some  mad  project  in  her  head.  Then 
he  had  taken  her  up  kicking,  biting,  and  scratching, 
tucked  her  under  his  arm  and  carried  her  into  the  house 
— upstairs  to  her  nursery,  or  in  severe  cases  into  one  of 
the  tower  garrets,  when  there  happened  to  be  a  key  in 
the  door.  Here  he  would  leave  her  for  an  hour  or  two  to 
redden  her  angry  little  knuckles  against  the  solid  oak, 
and  spoil  the  toecaps  of  her  London  shoes  in  the  vain 
attempt  to  kick  in  the  iron-studded  panellings  by  sheer 
force  of  wrathful  shank. 

What  else  was  he  intending  now?  Who  had  a  right 
if  not  he?  Her  oldest  friend,  somewhat  her  director 
through  ten  eventful  vacations  from  school  and  college, 
her  father's  friend  (Hal  did  not  blush  to  give  the  thing 
that  colour!),  he  saw  his  little  Molly  being  made  a  mock 
of  by  plunderers  and  led-captains  who  cared  nothing  for 
her,  but  would  leave  her  in  the  lurch,  when  (as  sooner  or 
later  must  be  the  case)  the  castle  got  itself  stormed.  He, 
Hal  Ludlow,  meant  to  save  her  from  all  this  and  if  she 
kicked  and  bit,  scratched  and  fought — well,  he  thought 
he  could  stand  that  too.  Here  again  we  come  down  to 
that  necessary  substratum  of  brutality,  which  underlay 
Hal's  gay  and  light  demeanour,  and  fitted  him  to  be  a 
good  Captain  of  Ironsides,  and  an  inflicter  of  Colonel 
Cromwell's  discipline  upon  the  New  Model  army  just 
then  springing  into  being. 

He  had  ridden  calmly  out  of  the  Eve's  Corner  gate, 
near  which  was  an  inn  much  frequented  by  the  few 
Brown  Octobers  who  had  not  gone  back  to  Oxford  with 
Rupert  upon  the  report,  sedulously  propagated  by  Hal, 
that  Colonel  Cromwell  was  approaching  with  the  whole 
Eastern  army  to  take  the  castle  and  put  the  defenders 
to  the  sword. 

Rupert  had  waited  a  day  and  a  night  on  the  round  top 
of  the  Rodney,  watching  for  any  sign  of  the  enemy. 


lOa  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Gladly  would  he  have  found  them  then  or  at  any  other 
time,  wherever  there  was  plain  ground  for  a  charge, 
uphill  or  downhill,  front,  flank  or  rear.  But  the  business 
of  a  siege  was  noways  to  his  liking.  His  qualities  were 
lost  behind  stone  and  lime,  and  he  loathed  earthworks  of 
the  latest  continental  pattern.  The  ravel  of  little  lanes 
and  communicating  tunnels  about  the  east-looking  crest 
of  Danbury  Hill  would  be  death  and  destruction  to  his 
horsemen.  He  would  not  dismount  his  gentlemen  and 
put  them  to  digging  molehills,  nor  turn  them  into  train- 
bands and  pikemen  to  defend  mud  walls.  So  finding  no 
advantage  in  remaining  in  a  neighbourhood  while  the 
Roundheads  were  mustering  for  his  destruction,  he  swept 
up  such  of  the  Brown  Octobers  as  were  young  and 
specially  well  mounted,  or  old  and  with  long  purses. 
Then  he  said  a  most  courteous  good-bye  to  my  Lady 
Molly,  wished  her  all  good  luck  in  the  King's  name, 
borrowed  fifty  gold  pieces  to  pay  his  overnight  losses  at 
ombre,  and  rode  away — as  fine  a  gentleman  and  as  un- 
scrupulous a  bandit  as  ever  kissed  the  hand  of  fair 
lady. 

The  day  after  Hal  Ludlow  was  knocking  with  his 
sword-hilt  upon  the  shut  doors  of  the  farm-steading  of 
Boreham  Barns,  and  shouting  "  Come  down,  Quaker,  or 
I  will  set  fire  to  your  great  barn." 

For  long  nothing  stirred,  and  then  a  rustling  as  of 
enormous  rats  reached  Hal's  ear  from  the  mow  at  the 
western  end,  the  sole  which  still  remained,  and  through 
a  three-cornered  wicket  poked  the  frowsy  head  of  Loud 
Tom  Christopher  the  foreman.  His  hair  was  more 
stubbly  in  colour  and  hempen  in  consistence  than  ever, 
and  he  blinked  with  the  blank  goggle-eyed  inane  counte- 
nance of  a  man  who  has  been  sleeping  away  a  rich  and 
profitable  day. 

This  was  so  far  from  being  Tom's  habit  that  Hal 
promptly  charged  him  with  spirituous  indulgence. 

"  And    my  uniform,  rascal — my  head-piece  and  cui- 


MOLLY  HATES  HAL  103 

rass,  Tom,  the  Oversman?  Hasn't  swapped  them 
for  bottles  of  Hollands  and  drunk  up  my  good 
harness  ?  " 

"  Nay,  Master  Hal,  as  thou  well  dost  know.  1  am  no 
friend  to  excess,  though  at  times  I  can  be  doing  with  a 
jug  of  stone  ale  as  well  as  another.  But  the  steel  pot  for 
thy  brain-pan  is  here  with  all  thy  other  'coutrements, 
safe  wrapped  in  one  of  master's  waggon  sheets,  and  a 
cat's  jump  to  the  left  of  yon  copse  is  a  little  hole  in  the 
hill  with  nut  bushes  and  green  truck  growing  about. 
There  is  your  horse,  well  stabled  and  ready  for  the  road. 
The  troop  will  be  blithe  to  see  you,  Captain.  They  are 
main  tired  of  Witham,  where  every  day  the  provisions 
are  harder  to  get " 

All  the  time  Tom  was  dusting  himself  down  and  soon 
the  great  door  was  opened  and  Loud  Tom  stood  there 
with  a  bundle  in  his  arms.  The  King's  hat  and  lace  scarf 
disappeared,  the  blue  and  white  favours,  Lady  Molly's 
gift,  were  tossed  in  a  corner,  and  once  again  with  a  great 
gasp  of  relief  stood  up  an  armed  Captain  of  Ironsides, 
every  button  and  plate  shining  and  the  red  cloth  of  the 
coat  carefully  brushed.  With  exact  hand  he  adjusted 
to  the  best  advantage  the  plume  of  his  casque.  Then  he 
crowned  himself  with  anxious  adjustment,  saying, 
"  'Tis  a  great  comfort  to  a  man,  a  good  steel  pot !  " 
Which  indeed  was  true  in  the  case  of  a  captain  of  horse, 
of  that  very  special  New  Model  breed  raised  by  Colonel 
Oliver  Cromwell,  which  was  to  change  so  completely  the 
course  of  history. 

"  Come  now,  Captain,"  said  Loud  Tom,  after  he  had 
turned  about  once  or  twice  to  get  the  straw  spikes  and 
burrs  plucked  out  of  his  tunic.  "  One  good  turn  deserves 
another.  We  are  here  four  good  Anabaptists  and  we 
are  most  dustily  tired  of  this  here  hanging-on  work. 
Quaking  don't  suit  us.  We  have  horses  bought  for  a 
price  with  our  own  moneys,  arms  too  of  a  kind.  The 
men  are  all  up  at  the  timber  shed  at  the  spinny  yonder, 


104.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

waiting  for  'ee,  Master  Hal,  till  they  know  what  answer 
ye  will  make." 

"  Answer  what,  Tom  ?  Out  with  it !  What  do  you 
want?" 

"  Just  to  ride  with  you,  Captain  Hal — ye  made  a  poor 
waggoner,  but  from  what  I  hear  from  our 'folk  up  Gedney 
way,  there  be  few  to  match  ye  in  the  soldiering  trade. 
We  be  minded  to  enlist  with  our  own  lads — us  all  comes 
from  French  Drove — not  much  on  drill  as  yet,  how  could 
we  ?  But  all,  as  Israel  Toombs  said  of  his  missus,  '  Wall- 
eyed, but  willing-hearted.'  " 

Loud  Tom  laughed  at  his  own  jest.  "  Aye,"  he  re- 
peated, tasting  the  flavour  of  his  own  wit,  "  that's  us — 
wall-eyed,  but  willing-hearted  !  " 

They  were  still  in  the  yard  and  during  a  short  absence 
of  Tom  the  Oversman,  it  seemed  to  Hal  that  he  had 
heard  a  strange  whining  noise  from  a  range  of  low 
buildings  which  on  his  former  visit  had  been  still  popu- 
lous with  pigs.  These  had  now  all  disappeared,  as  in- 
deed had  done  everything  about  the  place.  Stillness 
brooded  with  heavy  wing  over  Boreham  Barns,  but  like 
the  moaning  of  the  wind  through  a  keyhole,  there  came 
to  his  ears  this  singular  sound,  at  once  persistent  and 
irregular.  There  was  a  human  something  about  it  too, 
which  bore  upon  Hal's  imagination.  He  had  no  objec- 
tion to  anyone  sufifering  for  a  good  or  sufficient  cause, 
but  he  could  not  bear  that  any  should  be  mishandled  or 
left  without  redress.  His  thoughts  flew  to  his  troops. 
Could  one  of  them  have  been  wounded  in  his  absence, 
hidden  away,  and  now  perhaps  dying  of  thirst  in  some 
cellar? 

He  called  to  Loud  Tom,  who  came  instantly  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice.  He  was  carrying  a  couple  of  hams, 
swung  one  on  either  side  as  a  maid  carries  her  milking 
pails.  Strings  of  sausages  and  dark-coloured  puddings 
garlanded  his  neck.  Dutch  sea-bread  and  French  biscuits 
made  his  huge  side-pockets  bulge.     It  was  clear  that  in 


MOLLY  HATES  HAL  105* 

the  first  of  military  exigencies,  Loud  Tom  would  make  an 
excellent  soldier.  He  had  the  instinct  of  making  ample 
provision, 

"  Tom,"  said  Captain  Hal,  pointing  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound,  "what  may  be  over  yonder?" 
"  What  may  be  which,  Captain  Hal  ?  " 
"  The  noise  I  hear,  as  of  a  man  in  pain." 
Loud  Tom  the  Oversman  laughed  gurglingly,  and, 
marching  over  to  the  first  pig-sty,  kicked  away  the 
great  stone,  called  "  Lazarus  " — used  to  keep  in  any 
rebellious  "  snorter  "  given  to  digging  his  way  out — for 
them  "  Lazarus  "  fell  upon  his  upturned  nose,  filling  up 
the  pit  already  digged  and  making  the  too  diligent  sapper 
squeal  with  pain.  Then  with  his  loot  still  upon  his  back, 
Tom  shot  a  couple  of  bolts  and  swung  open  a  sparred 
iron  door.  Hal  stooped  and  through  the  low  and  narrow 
doorway  beheld  the  Quaker  sitting  wringing  his  hands 
in  the  corner.  His  complaints  filled  the  narrow  prison- 
house  and  flowed  out  in  a  steady  stream. 

"  I  am  in  Meshek.  I  sojourn  in  the  tents  of  Kedar. 
The  bloody-minded  have  taken  vengeance  upon  me ! 
Woe  is  me — woe  and  double  woe !  " 

"  Don't  mind  a  word  he  say.  Captain.  He  sent  that 
Amorite  Joe  Cormack  with  a  letter  to  Prince  Rupert  to 
warn  him  that  you  were  a  Captain  in  Oliver's  horse, 
spying  within  the  castle — that  the  Lady  Molly  was  a 
party  to  the  plot,  and  that  the  only  true  friend  the  King 
had  in  these  parts  was  his  loyal  and  humble  subject, 
Silas  Scale,  of  the  sect  called  Quakers,  frequently 
honoured  in  happier  days  with  the  King's  commands. 
Oh,  Master  Silas,  do  not  deny  your  signature  and  super- 
scription. I  have  the  letter  here,  and  to  the  castle  it 
would  have  gone,  if  Hairbreadth  Billing  had  not  scragged 
the  Amorite's  wicked  throat  as  he  leaped  the  Trysting 
Stile,  shaken  him  out,  pounded  him,  and  so  found  the 
letter  crackling  inside  the  lining  of  his  waistcoat.  So 
as  we  had  much  to  do,  we  shut  Master  Silas  up  here  and 


106  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

left  him  water  to  drink  and  a  loaf  to  gnaw — which  was  a 
deal  better  than  he  deserved.  But  the  Quakers  are  main 
honest  folk — all  of  them,  that  is,  except  Silas,  and  we 
spared  him  for  the  sake  of  his  kin.  One  black  sheep  don't 
blacken  the  flock." 

Hal  was  immediately  and  fiercely  wroth — not  because 
of  the  man's  treachery  to  himself,  but  because,  being  a 
Quaker,  he  had  abandoned  and  betrayed  the  Cause  which 
ought  to  have  been  dear  to  him. 

"  'Tis  little  use  wasting  such  good  words  on  him. 
Captain  Hal,"  advised  Loud  Tom ;  "  he  has  no  love  save 
for  his  strong-box,  nor  any  Cause  for  which  he  cares  ex- 
cept that  which  will  bring  him  in  more  coined  money." 

"  I  am  the  man  that  hath  seen  affliction,"  came  the 
voice  from  the  pig-sty.  "  He  hath  led  me  into  darkness, 
and  my  heart  is  humbled  within  me !  " 

"  Well,  let's  hope  so,"  concurred  Loud  Tom  cheerfully. 
"  I  shall  keep  the  letter  and  if  there  is  any  complaint  of 
further  treachery  I  shall  show  it  to  Colonel  Cromwell. 
If  I  do,  I  warrant  you  that  neither  Mechek  nor  Meso- 
potamia shall  be  far  enough  away  to  hide  you  from  his 
halter!" 

The  Quaker  stood  shaking  on  the  pavement  of  the  line 
of  troughs,  down  which  in  times  of  plenty  the  pigs'  swill 
.had  been  wont  to  run.  Loud  Tom  tossed  the  keys  at  his 
feet  with  the  clash  of  iron  striking  stone. 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  you  will  find  all  in  order,  and 
under  a  nail  on  my  desk  a  note  of  all  our  takings  in  the 
name  of  the  army  which  we  are  riding  to  join — all,  that 
is,  except  Joe  Cormack,  the  Amorite  who  is  in  the  pig- 
sty next  but  one.  Be  careful  how  you  disturb  him,  for 
he  took  in  a  brace  of  brandy  with  him  to  while  away  the 
time." 

"  Where  are  my  horses — my  cattle  ? — you  have  robbed 
me,"  shouted  the  Quaker. 

**  All  gone  to  Colonel  Cromwell  and  Commissioner 
Ludlow,"  said  Loud  Tom  complacently.    "  They  are  both 


MOLLY  HATES  HAL  107 

at  Cambridge  this  week,  and  need  service.  Most  men 
would  like  to  be  robbed  in  like  fashion,  for  had  your 
friends  from  the  Towers  come  and  taken  them  off,  no 
shilling  of  payment  would  you  ever  have  seen !  " 

Without  another  word  the  two  men  turned  their  backs 
upon  the  great  yard  of  Boreham  Barns,  leaving  their  late 
master  to  pick  up  the  keys,  forlornly  muttering  the  while 
the  overword  of  his  favourite  psalm: — 

"A  good  man's  footsteps  by  the  Lord 
Are  ordered  aright. 
And  hi  the  way  wherein  he  walks 
He  greatly  doth  delight." 

He,  Silas  Scale,  was  par  excellence  the  Good  Man — 
nay,  speaking  humbly  yet  with  just  reason,  he  might  be 
called  "  The  Man  after  God's  own  heart."  If  David 
could  say  as  much — why  not  he?  Silas  hath  no  little 
affair  like  that  of  Bathsheba  upon  his  conscience,  though 
he  liked  reading  about  it  too. 


XI 

HAL'S  HOMING 

THE  Hog  Laners  had  never  doubted  but  that  their 
Captain  would  return.  Yet  to  have  him  come  back 
in  triumph,  plume  floating,  helm  and  harness  shin- 
ing and  four  good  Anabaptists  well  mounted  attending 
him,  was  an  absolute  triumph.  The  shout  that  went  up 
from  the  coppices  about  Witham  might  have  been  heard 
at  Danbury  Towers  had  the  garrison  not  been  too  busy 
with  their  entrenched  camp  to  pay  any  heed.  They  had 
need  to  be  busy,  for  soon  Hal  Ludlow  was  riding  Cam- 
bridgeward  with  his  report. 

There  Colonel  Cromwell,  uncrowned  King  of  the  fens, 
a  great  power  in  these  parts,  was  gathering  in  contribu- 
tions for  the  Houses.  No  county  gave  so  liberally  as 
Cambridge — no  town  so  grudgingly  and  costively  as  the 
University  seat.  For  which  reason  it  was  well  for  Colonel 
Cromwell  to  be  in  hand  with  six  troops  of  horse,  and  to 
let  the  colleges  see  them  march  and  countermarch, 
veterans  to  a  man,  able  and  ready  for  anything,  and 
particularly  willing  to  shed  the  blood  of  any  armed 
malcontents  who  might  come  their  way. 

Hal  rode  joyously  at  the  head  of  his  Hog  Laners. 
Sometimes  the  little  dark  ringlets  of  his  lieutenant, 
crisped  under  his  black  "  pot,"  would  range  up  beside 
him  for  a  quiet  word.  Anon  Zered  would  rein  back  to 
his  place,  or  even  fall  behind  to  drop  hint  to  Loud  Tom 
and  the  new  recruits  as  to  the  proper  answers  to  give 
when  they  should  meet  with  Colonel  Cromwell. 

"  Let  the  Captain  answer  what  he  likes.  He  will  tell 
the  tale  better  than  you.     If  he  wants  to  bring  off  the 

108 


HAL'S  HOMING  109 

young  lady  scatheless,  saying  that  she  is  held  in  duress 
and  against  her  will — well,  after  all,  'tis  a  good  lie,  and 
the  wench  is  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter's  only  daughter. 
Moreover,  lads,  'tis  none  of  our  business." 

"  Master  Lieutenant,  I  be  called  Loud  Tom,  I  know," 
the  Oversman  added,  "  'tis  my  habit  of  speech  and  I 
cannot  help  it.  But  to  be  loud  is  not  to  be  loose  of 
tongue,  and  Tom  of  the  Barns  can  hold  his  with  any 
man." 

He  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  head  of  the 
troop  where  Captain  Hal,  chin  in  air,  was  trolling  forth 
the  verse  of  a  song. 

"  Sounds  like  no  psalm  that  ever  I  heard,"  said  Loud 
Tom,  "  not  leastways  in  our  parts,  but  then  I  hain't 
travelled  much,  come  to  think !  " 

"  Can't  always  surely  tell,"  said  the  little  lieutenant, 
grinning,  "  they  have  got  some  curious  new  tunes  up 
Ely  way,  amazing  spritely  they  be,  as  my  blessed  mother 
said  when  the  cat  kittened  in  her  Valenceens  cap  box !  " 

"  Aye,  must  be !  "  commented  Loud  Tom  drily. 

"  Ararantha  stvect  and  fair, 
Forbear    to    braid    that    shining    hair, 
Like  the  sun  his  early  ray 
Shake  thy  head,  and  scatter  day." 

The  words  came  clearly  enough,  and  the  Lieutenant 
blushed  for  his  senior. 

"  After  all,"  he  said  in  excuse,  "  he's  no  Anabaptist, 
and  then  he  is  young.  What  should  he  be  thinking  about 
but  the  maids  ?  'Tis  natural,  so  it  is,  and  I  am  no  friend 
to  those  who  would  make  fourscore  years  out  of  twenty. 
You  will  find  him  a  rare  fighting  Captain,  and  stiff  on 
discipline,  as  his  master  has  taught  him.  Let  him  alone 
to-day.  He  will  sing  a  psalm  with  the  best  of  us  when 
we  string  out  our  battle  front  for  the  charge.  I  have 
heard  him  before  now." 

Evening    fell    slowly    as   the    steeples    of    Cambridge 


110  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

showed  up  out  of  the  level  fen,  looming  disproportionately 
large  against  the  ruddy  sky.  An  immense  pile  of  fleecy 
tumulus  clouds  mounted  from  the  horizon  to  the  zenith, 
bossed  and  fire-tipped  on  its  western  side.  There  was  a 
teasing  wind  up  there,  and  Hal  noticed  that  the  cool 
eastern  outliers  bent  over  and  overwhelmed  the  sunny 
peaks.  As  the  sun  caught  them  they  glowed  metallic  like 
the  cuirasses  of  his  own  Ironsides.  It  was  a  good  omen, 
and  he  watched  wath  interest  what  should  befall.  The 
towers  of  Cambridge  stood  out  against  a  broad  horizon 
belt  of  pale  aerial  green,  very  wistful  and  solemn.  Above 
the  heavens  were  given  up  to  the  simulacrum  of  armed 
war. 

At  that  time  in  London  busy  with  his  Latin  pupils 
dwelt  one  John  Milton,  who  in  the  oncoming  tempest 
saw  the  clash  of  thrones  and  dominations,  all  the  war  of 
an  angel  onset.  But  nothing  of  this  troubled  Hal,  who 
was  only  concerned  to  get  his  men  dry  into  Cambridge 
and  his  meeting  with  his  chief  over. 

He  reached  the  guarded  gate  where  the  Slepe  Troop 
welcomed  him  with  a  glad  shout. 

"  Go  on,  youngster,"  cried  Sam  Squire  the  Adjutant, 
"  he  is  waiting  for  you  at  the  Mayor's  house — your  father 
too,  I  think.    I  hope  you  have  a  good  tale  to  tell." 

"  Capital,"  cried  Hal  over  his  shoulder,  "  I  was  cap- 
tured by  Rupert  and  got  away !  " 

"  What,  not  the  Prince  ?  " 

"  Who  other  ?  I  shall  spin  you  a  yarn  when  we  fore- 
gather. Can  you  lend  me  a  clean  pair  of  hose?  These  I 
wear  are  mostly  holes,  besides  being  full  of  ticklesome 
hay  burrs !  " 

"  All  you  want,  lad,  when  you  get  clear  of  the  great 
folk!" 

Hal  and  his  troop  of  Hog  Laners  went  on  to  the  Town 
House  of  the  Mayor,  eagerly  guided  by  a  street  urchin 
in  the  picturesque  disarray  of  a  grain  bag  with  holes 
for  his  head  and  arms.     The  open  end  made  a  skirt 


HAL'S  HOMING  111 

which  reached  to  his  knees.  Anything  more  airy  and 
pleasant  for  summer  wear  could  not  be  devised — that  is, 
after  one  had  got  accustomed  to  the  rasp  of  the  material 
on  the  bare  skin. 

The  rare  oil  lanterns,  hung  on  posts,  were  being  lighted 
along  the  streets,  and  college  halls  glowed  bright  as  Hal 
and  his  band  rode  through  the  town.  The  green  twilight 
cast  rosy  reflections  on  the  roadways  and  Hal  quickened 
his  pace  as  he  neared  the  end. 

At  the  Town  House  he  dismounted,  and  called  out 
his  name  to  an  orderly  who  stood  on  the  steps. 

"  Captain  Ludlow  of  the  seventh  troop  to  see  Colonel 
Cromwell !  " 

He  passed  within,  and  the  patient  Hog  Laners  dis- 
mounted outside,  still  standing  in  rank,  easing  girths  and 
furtively  rubbing  down  their  mounts,  as  good  cavalry- 
men ought,  whose  lives  are  in  the  legs  of  their  horses. 

Cromwell  was  sitting  at  the  Council  Board  with  two 
others — one  of  whom  was  Mr.  Commissioner  Ludlow. 
Hal  saluted  all  three  gravely  and  equally — or  rather  he 
saluted  his  superior  officer  and  let  his  father  and  the 
rather  frightened  Mayor  take  what  part  of  the  homage 
they  might  think  their  due. 

"  Well,  Captain,"  said  Cromwell,  "  we  thought  you 
were  lost  and  all  your  troop.  Let  us  hear  what  awaits  us 
at  Danbury.  Is  that  Hog  Lane  I  hear  outside — any 
losses?" 

"  None,  I  have  brought  them  all  back,  and  five  good 
fighting  recruits  whom  I  shall  present  to  you  when  you 
are  more  at  leisure." 

Colonel  Cromwell  became  good-humoured  at  once,  as 
he  always  did  when  he  heard  of  suitable  enlistments. 

"  Tell  your  story,"  he  said,  sitting  back  in  his  chair, 
"  what  of  my  Lord  Woodham's  wench  and  her  defences 
of  the  Towers?  " 

So  Hal  told  all  his  tale  of  the  coming  and  going  of  the 
Oxford  raid,  his  being  pressed  by  Rupert,  and  how  the 


112  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Lady  Molly,  recognising  an  old  playfellow,  had  begged 
him  off.  How  he  had  seen  everything  and  finally  ridden 
away  unchecked,  his  escape  as  good  as  connived  at. 

"  Lady  Molly  is  no  more  a  malignant  than  I  am,"  he 
declared  stoutly,  "  her  father  has  been  a  little  too  round 
with  her,  that  is  all,  and  she  is  a  spoilt  maid  like  most 
only  daughters " 

"  And  sons,"  put  in  Mr.  Commissioner  Ludlow,  drum- 
ming upon  the  table. 

"  The  place  is  formidable  enough,  but  can  do  us  little 
harm.  The  King's  garrison  within  have  no  following  in 
the  county.  The  neighbourhood  is  now  swept  clean  of 
cattle  and  provender,  and  the  truth  is  they  must  starve 
or  shift  quarters.  As  to  Lady  Molly,  I  would  stake  my 
troop  and  stand  to  it  that  I  could  persuade  her  to  come 
over  to  our  side — or  if  not,  I  could  capture  her  and 
carry  her  to  her  father  at  St.  James's." 

"  Hark  to  your  only  son,  Mr.  Commissioner !  Crows 
he  not  loud,  this  cockerling?  He  will  subdue  fortresses. 
He  will  carry  off  maids." 

Hal  flushed,  not  because  of  his  chief's  speech,  but 
because  it  was  spoken  before  his  father  whom  he  knew 
incapable  of  taking  anything  lightly. 

"  It  is  a  matter,"  Mr.  Commissioner  answered  heavily, 
"  upon  which  it  might  be  wise  to  consult  my  Lord  Wood- 
ham  Walter.    I  shall  write  to  him  to-night." 

"  Do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  snapped  Cromwell,  sharp 
as  the  dog  of  his  own  pistol,  "  this  is  my  affair.  If  Lord 
Woodham  Walter  could  not  look  after  his  daughter  when 
he  had  her  in  the  house  with  him,  what  good  will  it  be  to 
write  to  him  at  St.  James's?" 

He  turned  to  Hal  imperiously. 

"  Captain  Ludlow,"  he  said,  "  what  force  would  be 
necessary  to  reduce  this  stronghold  ?  " 

"  Cavalry  could  not  do  it,"  Hal  answered,  "  not  even 
a  brigade.  They  have  entrenched  the  place.  Old  Sep- 
timus Hepburn,  the  Scots  veteran  with  the  slashed  face, 


HAL'S  HOMING  113 

has  seen  well  to  that.  It  would  need  artillery  and  in- 
fantry, neither  easy  for  us  to  come  by.  But  let  me  go 
back  and  if  I  can  bring  off  Lady  Molly,  I  warrant  you 
that  the  whole  defences  will  collapse." 

Cromwell  glanced  at  his  two  stolid  companions,  seemed 
to  find  them  hopeless,  and  with  something  of  relief 
returned  to  the  anxious  eager  face  of  his  young  Captain. 
As  he  looked  at  the  dull  countenance  and  flaccid  cheeks 
of  Mr.  Commissioner  Ludlow,  he  seemed  to  be  asking, 
"  How  came  this  old  brood  hen  to  rear  such  a  cock  of 
the  game  ?  " 

Something  young  and  human  touched  him,  and  he 
became  again,  though  but  for  a  moment,  the  man  of  the 
Tithe  House  garden  where  stood  the  dial — armed  war- 
rior indeed,  but  still  the  man  who  had  tossed  his  children 
in  the  air  on  his  return  from  battle. 

"  Well,  Hal,  we  shall  see.  You  have  a  persuasive  way 
with  dames,  I  am  told.  If  you  can  catch  the  Lady  Molly, 
and  teach  her  to  hop  on  our  bough  and  whistle  our  tune, 
it  would  be  no  bad  thing  for  the  Cause,  not  to  speak  of 
all  the  pleasure  it  would  doubtless  be  to  you  thus  to 
serve  the  Lord." 

With  this  characteristic  irony  Cromwell  broke  off  the 
interview. 

"Report  yourself  to  Major  Ireton!"  he  ordered 
briefly.     "  He  will  assign  you  quarters." 

Hal  saluted  and  was  going,  his  heart  singing  within 
him,  when  the  voice  of  his  Colonel  once  more  swung  him 
round  to  attention  in  the  threshold  of  the  doorway. 

"  Your  pardon,  gentlemen,  I  must  speak  with  Captain 
Ludlow  for  one  moment  on  a  purely  military  matter." 

The  Commissioner  and  the  Mayor  of  Cambridge 
solemnly  bowed  their  heads,  like  mutes  at  a  funeral. 

Cromwell  strode  across  the  room. 

"  Come  without,"  he  whispered,  "  I  shall  not  sleep 
to-night  if  I  do  not  see  these  new  recruits  of  yours.  Are 
they  staunch  fellows.''    Of  our  sort?" 


114.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

He  was  eager  as  a  schoolboy  collecting  eggs.  He  could 
not  wait  till  the  morning.  At  the  first  glance  Hal  knew 
that  their  coming  had  been  announced  outside.  Every 
man  was  sitting  his  horse,  motionless  and  well  ordered, 
for  the  honour  of  Hog  Lane  and  Captain  Hal. 

"All  in  good  heart,  lads?"  queried  Cromwell,  peering 
down  their  line  with  eyes  that  burned  like  coals.  "  Where 
are  the  new  men  ?    I  do  not  see  them  ?  " 

"  Forward  there,  Boreham  Barns !  "  cried  Hal. 

And  the  five  newly  admitted  men  rode  up  to  the  step 
on  which  Colonel  Cromwell  stood,  impatiently  switching 
his  leg  with  the  riding  whip  which  dangled  from  his  wrist. 

The  front  of  the  Mayor's  house  carried  cressets  in 
which  ordinarily  during  winter  nights  resinous  torches 
were  set.  But  the  nights  of  the  fen  were  so  short  and 
clement  at  that  season  that  no  one  had  thought  of  filling 
the  sockets.  The  chief  lost  patience.  "  Idle  dogs,"  he 
cried  to  the  serving  men  within,  "  light  your  cressets  or 
I  shall  send  you  skipping.  Is  a  man  blind  that  he  should 
be  reduced  to  feeling  for  his  soldiers  ?  " 

The  men  sprang  out  upon  the  porch  and  with  a  splutter 
or  two  and  a  muttered  curse  (which  would  have  cost 
twelve  pence  in  the  ranks  of  the  New  Model),  the  torches 
flamed.  Very  stern  was  the  array  of  Hog  Lane.  Each 
steel  "  pot  "  on  each  cropped  head  shone  like  a  carbuncle. 
Buckles  sparkled  and  breastplate  shone  with  a  mild 
austere  radiance.  The  horses  tossed  their  heads,  but  the 
men  sat  immovable  as  if  carved  in  ebony  and  steel. 

All  Oliver's  eyes  were  for  the  new  five.  He  picked  out 
the  leader  at  once. 

"You,  sir,  what  is  your  name?" 

"  Tom  Christopher,  sir,  but  they  do  mostly  call  me 
Loud  Tom,  on  account  of  my  voice." 

"  Hum,  of  what  religion  are  you,  Tom  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  Anabaptist,  Colonel,  and  think  no  shame. 
'Tis  a  good  staunch  creed,  and  was  that  of  my  father 
before  me." 


HAL'S  HOMING  116 

"  A  sound  answer,  Loud  Tom,  but  it  were  well  not  to 
be  too  loud  among  my  regiments.  Understand  that,  when 
loud  speaking  is  to  be  done,  I  do  it." 

"  I  can  be  Silent  Tom  as  well,  sir,''  he  answered  as  he 
saluted  and  retired. 

Cromwell  looked  after  him  thoughtfully. 

"  If  he  does  well  I  shall  mark  him  to  be  a  sergeant. 
He  appears  to  have  some  authority  over  the  others." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Hal,  "  the  four  others  follow 
him  like  sheep." 

"  Say  rather — like  soldiers,  Hal.  Remember  that  a 
good  soldier  will  follow  a  man  who  leads  and  does  not 
wait,  who  orders  and  does  not  argue,  who  knows  where 
he  is  going,  and  goes.  They  will  never  let  such  a  man  go 
forward  alone." 

Cromwell,  well  pleased,  dismissed  the  new  recruits. 
He  would  order  their  ordinary  accoutrements  to  be  sent 
to  them  to-morrow.  For  their  red  coats  they  must  go 
to  the  Intendance.  And  so  "  Good-night,  lads,  eat  well, 
drink  sparingly,  and  do  not  forget  your  prayers." 


XII 

A  JUDAS  IN  THE  CAMP 

FIELDS  of  wheat  were  waving  green  about  Runsell, 
and  all  across  the  wide  valley  when  Captain  Henry- 
Ludlow  again  rode  that  way.  He  had  all  Hog 
Lane  at  his  back,  fifty-five  troopers,  his  lieutenant  and 
four  sergeants,  sixty  basket-hilts  in  all.  Cromwell,  who 
had  gone  to  the  north  to  help  raise  the  siege  of  Hull, 
presently  threatened  by  Newcastle's  army,  could  not  spare 
another  blade. 

"  Besides,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  junior  Captain  and  any 
other  whom  I  might  have  sent  would  necessarily  have 
ranked  you.  Also  this  is  a  single-handed  job.  It  must 
be  done  neatly  or  not  at  all.  You  are  a  man  of  woodcraft, 
you  have  lived  in  the  country  all  your  life,  and  from  what 
I  can  judge,  friend  Hal,  you  read  sea  and  sky,  marsh  and 
wood  with  more  diligence  and  skill  than  you  spend  upon 
your  Bible." 

"  Nay,  but  that  I  read  also,"  objected  Hal,  with  a 
simplicity  which  won  upon  Colonel  Cromwell,  then  with 
the  air  of  one  making  a  profound  and  startling  confidence, 
"  and  the  oftener  I  read  that  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  the 
better  I  like  it." 

"  Well  spoken,  Hal — I  believe  you,  lad,  and  I  love 
you  the  better  that  you  speak  out  so  boldly  such  curious 
likings." 

Hal  did  not  perceive  the  irony  of  the  Colonel's  speech, 
nor  did  he  trouble  his  head  more  about  the  matter  as  he 
rode  southward  with  his  command.  He  kept  well  east 
towards  the  Essex  marshes,  for  he  understood  that  from 
that  direction  the  garrison  of  Danbury  Towers  would 

116 


A  JUDAS  IN  THE  CAMP  117 

have  no  fears  of  an  attack.  They  would  keep  no  guard 
save  along  the  great  road  from  London  to  Maldon. 
Besides,  the  fen  men  of  his  troop  liked  the  route  They 
were  altogether  at  home  when  they  passed  Mersea  and 
Goldhanger  with  their  green  gables  ornamented  with 
grotesque  figures  carved  in  wood  like  ships'  figure-heads. 
The  Hog  Laners  sniffed  at  the  smell  of  the  tar  and  fish. 
Hal  soon  had  enough  of  it,  and  for  long  after  fish  was  no 
favourite  diet  of  his.  Fish  outside  and  in,  fish  at  break- 
fast, fish  at  dinner.  The  Marsh  men  were  delighted,  but 
Hal,  less  inured  to  the  single  diet,  raw,  salt,  and  smoked, 
spent  a  good  deal  of  time  being  "  punted  "  about  with  an 
ancient  Jacobean  swivel  gun,  great  as  a  carronade  and 
with  a  mouth  like  an  aim's  dish,  seeking  a  change  of  food 
for  supper. 

Lieutenant  Zered  used  to  bring  a  little  dark  green 
bottle  every  time  his  chief  returned  from  his  expeditions 
and  insist  on  his  swallowing  a  tot.  It  contained,  he  said, 
medicine  against  the  marsh  fever — the  only  specific, 
brought  from  foreign  parts  by  the  sailors  of  Brightling- 
sea.  Hal  found  it  a  very  admirable  specific  after  a 
night  in  a  punt,  but  a  more  experienced  man  would 
have  found  no  great  difference  between  the  contents 
of  the  little  dark  green  bottle  and  an  excellent  brand  of 
Hollands. 

Hal  had  hard  work  keeping  the  minds  of  the  Hog 
Laners  on  the  affairs  of  state.  He  insisted  upon  daily 
drill,  but  for  the  rest  he  found,  that  so  long  as  they  were 
quartered  in  the  coast  settlements,  it  was  as  well  to  let 
the  men  refresh  themselves.  Hog  Lane,  the  waxing  of 
bristles,  hammer,  knife,  and  lapstone  had  not  changed 
them — indeed  had  only  given  them  a  greater  lust  for 
their  original  life.  They  were  more  than  ever  "  lads  of 
the  fen."  Zachary  Elsegood  was  no  more  their  tyrant, 
and  Lieutenant  Tuby  assured  Hal  that  Hog  Lane  would 
fight  all  the  better  for  this  free  run  among  things 
primitive. 


118  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

For  Colonel  Cromwell  had  strictly  forbidden  Hal  to  do 
his  own  advance  scouting.  The  good  troop  was  in  no  case 
to  be  left  without  a  head,  at  least  not  until  it  should 
come  to  the  "  final  flurry."  So  Loud  Tom  with  two  of 
his  companions  were  sent  on  ahead  in  plain  clothes  to  spy 
out  the  land — honest  labouring  men,  Tom  Christo- 
pher the  Oversman  and  his  friends,  well  known  to 
all  in  these  parts,  not  suspected  by  any,  and  able 
to  bring  back  the  most  reliable  news  of  the  position 
of  affairs  at  the  Towers  and  how  the  Lady  Molly  found 
herself. 

For  the  rest.  Hog  Lane,  in  curious  fishing  togs  and 
ragged  long-shore  garments  borrowed  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, pervaded  the  upper  fens  of  the  Black  Water.  Thus 
they  gained  health  and  information,  but  were  quite  ready 
to  leap  into  saddle  when  Sam  Squire  of  the  Slepe  Troop 
came  spurring  with  the  news  that  a  man,  dark  and  peak- 
bearded  like  a  Spaniard,  was  wanted  by  Oliver — a  spy 
most  probably,  and  a  bearer  of  foreign  money  to  help  the 
Queen. 

He  was  making  for  the  Wash  and  at  all  costs  must  be 
caught,  otherwise  Colonel  Cromwell  would  be  excellent  to 
avoid  for  many  days  to  come. 

"  Bring  him  to  me,"  Colonel  Cromwell  had  ordered, 
but  this  Hog  Lane  could  not  do.  Hal  found  the  man  in 
an  old  black  barn,  very  hostile  and  most  active  with  gun 
and  pistol.  David  Pascal  and  Amos  Pall  were  both  hit, 
neither  severely.  Then  Hog  Lane  dismounted  in  wrath, 
swung  a  "  snodded  "  tree  trunk  end-on  at  the  crack  of 
the  barn  door  by  way  of  a  battering-ram,  burst  it  open 
and  rushed  in.  The  Spaniard  stood  to  his  point,  but  was 
borne  down,  and  being  wounded  "  even  unto  death,"  in 
the  dusky  corner  of  the  barn,  was  carried  forth  of  no 
further  use  to  anybody — though  his  money  was  welcome, 
four  thousand  golden  double  Louis,  which  would  have 
been  enough  to  have  bought  the  service  of  a  thousand 
Cambden  raiders  had  it  found  its  way  beyond  the  Wash. 


A  JUDAS  IN  THE  CAMP  119 

But  Sam  Squire  with  his  escort  of  four  rode  off  with 
glad  hearts  and  jingHng  saddle-bags. 

"  I  shall  let  Colonel  Cromwell  know  how  well  you 
served  him,  and  what  excellent  watch  you  keep.  I 
should  never  have  found  the  Spaniard  but  for  you !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  he  was  slain  in  the  tussle,"  said  Hal. 
"  Tell  the  Colonel  he  had  shot  two  of  our  men.  So  that, 
getting  into  the  barn,  they  smote  while  the  heat  was  on 
them." 

"Never  fear,"  cried  Sam  Squire,  the  Adjutant;  "I 
also  was  in  the  barn  and  did  some  little  smiting.  The 
chief  will  understand.  Besides  there  is  a  notice  that  no 
quarter  is  to  be  given  to  Cambdeners.  They  killed  three 
poor  men  at  Bourne,  men  not  under  arms !  " 

So  he  rode  away,  but  Hal,  while  the  grave  was  digging, 
slipped  his  hand  into  an  inner  pocket  in  which  parchment 
crackled  and  drew  out  a  French  Commission  in  the  name 
of  the  Chevalier  de  la  Brette  of  the  Prades  regiment.  He 
was  bidden  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  France  to  transact 
certain  affairs  in  England — a  spy  certainly  therefore,  but 
no  Spaniard,  as  Cromwell  had  been  informed.  He  had 
fallen  in  his  duty  and  Hal  Ludlow,  who  had  done  some 
spy  work  himself  and  expected  to  do  more,  resolved  to 
give  Monsieur  de  la  Brette  a  soldier's  funeral.  So  he 
summoned  Hog  Lane  and  with  peal  of  trumpet,  chant  of 
battle  psalm,  and  rattle  of  musketry,  they  laid  the  French- 
man in  his  grave  among  the  black  peat. 

"  Maybe  it  was  not  just  according  to  his  own  regula- 
tions," said  Zered,  shutting  his  Bible  on  the  last  chapter 
of  Job,  "  but  we  did  our  best  for  him.  Had  he  been 
Colonel  Cromwell  or  a  seasoned  '  Dipper,'  Hog  Lane 
could  not  have  done  more !  " 

So  the  poor  Chevalier  de  la  Brette  had  peace  very  far 
from  his  native  Rousillon,  the  land  of  black  hair  and 
peaked  beards  which  is  neither  French  nor  Spanish,  but 
Catalan-Roman,  which  is  quite  a  different  thing.  Rest 
the  soul  of  De  Brette  (Armande  Marie  of  that  name), 


120  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

and  as  for  his  body,  that  Hes  easy  enough  under  the  fair- 
est spread  of  buttercups  in  ten  shires.  For  since  the 
draining  of  these  low  levels  on  the  Dutch  plan,  the  Black- 
water  meadows  show  a  broad  and  bright  sheet  of  gold, 
out  of  which  white  villages  peep,  nestling  comfortably  in 
a  land  of  squires  and  spires. 

Hal  and  his  troop  returned  to  the  Mersey  village,  and 
from  thence  kept  the  country  in  great  order,  raising 
contributions  in  the  name  of  Colonel  Cromwell  and  Mr. 
Commissioner  Ludlow.  Now  and  then  a  Brown  October 
squireen  would  resent  the  forced  loan,  but  a  good  look 
at  the  steady  array  of  the  Hog  Laners  on  his  lawn  would 
make  him  think  better  of  it,  and  Hal  would  ride  away 
with  fifty  or  a  hundred  pieces  under  the  left  gusset  of  his 
waistcoat,  where  he  could  feel  it  and  yet  not  interfere 
with  the  play  of  his  sword-arm. 

One  day  Hal,  still  waiting  for  the  return  of  his  spies 
(who  had  orders  to  stay  till  they  had  made  all  possible 
observations  upon  the  outgoings  and  incomings  of  the 
Lady  Molly),  went  to  his  own  favourite  post  in  Hail 
Mary  Wood.  He  had  a  book  with  him,  a  squat  little 
volume  of  French  essays  by  one  Michel  Eyquem,  Lord  of 
Montaigne  and  sometime  Mayor  of  Bordeaux.  He  liked 
carrying  it  in  his  haversack  along  with  the  pocket  Bible 
which  had  been  his  mother's.  It  had  been  becrumbed  and 
bedropped,  yellow-stained  with  egg  and  salad,  from  being 
propped  among  dishes  when  he  had  dined  alone.  It  was 
solidly  bound  in  vellum  as  more  than  one  cat,  untimely 
orchestral,  had  discovered  to  his  cost.  Altogether  it  was 
a  treasure  not  to  be  valued  and  (Buhyan's  Pilgrim  being 
yet  unwritten  though  not  unacted)  it  formed  the  entire 
library  of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop. 

Hal  lay  on  his  face  after  the  manner  of  young  people 
when  they  read  half  drowsily.  His  chin  was  almost  on 
the  edge  of  the  Montaigne.  In  another  moment  he  would 
have  dropped  altogether  and  the  Captain  of  Troop  Seven 
been  asleep.    But  at  that  exact  instant  of  juncture  when 


A  JUDAS  IN  THE  C4MP  121 

his  head  was  nodding  lower  and  lower,  a  musket  crashed 
behind  him.  A  bullet  tore  through  the  leaves,  struck 
his  headpiece  and  ricocheted  away  with  a  vicious  zip  and 
splutter.  Hal,  stunned  by  the  sudden  blow  on  the  head, 
staggered  to  his  feet  to  look,  but  though  he  rushed  into 
a  clump  of  bushes  from  which  the  light  blue  gunpowder 
was  rising  he  could  see  nothing.  Indeed,  the  blood  was 
blinding  him  and  he  thought  himself  more  seriously 
wounded  than  he  was.  He  hastened  back  to  camp  where 
the  Hog  Laners  who  were  not  away  in  the  marshes  ran 
to  him  shouting  with  anger  and  amazement.  Zered 
Tuby  washed  the  wound  on  his  left  eyebrow.  A  flake 
of  lead,  splintering  upon  the  helmet,  was  lodged  under  the 
skin.  Deftly  the  Lieutenant  ripped  it  out  with  a  pair  of 
pincers  from  his  housewife,  patched  up  the  wound,  and 
prescribed  a  "  tot  "  from  the  green  medicine  bottle. 

Meanwhile,  Hog  Lane  was  out  hot  and  angry,  gallop- 
ing along  all  the  roads,  pushing  through  the  woods, 
shouting  to  each  other,  searching  everywhere  but  find- 
ing nothing.  The  man  who  had  shot  at  the  Captain  re- 
mained deaf  to  all  entreaties  to  come  out  and  be  killed. 
Then  having  indicated  to  his  Lieutenant  Zered  the  exact 
spot  where  he  had  been  lying  (well  marked,  indeed,  by 
the  still  open  octavo),  Hal  went  to  his  chamber  to  lie 
down. 

Left  to  himself,  Zered  Tuby  pursued  his  investigations 
with  his  usual  grim  determination.  He  brought  out  his 
superior's  steel  "  pot,"  and  laying  it  on  the  ground  where 
the  head  had  been,  he  studied  carefully  the  direction 
of  the  shot.  He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Captain 
Hal  had  been  fired  at  from  the  edge  of  the  wood,  by  a 
heavy  man  kneeling  upon  one  knee  and  using  the  lower 
crotch  of  a  young  pine  as  a  gun-rest.  The  bullet  had 
struck  the  helmet  at  a  very  acute  angle,  glanced  ofif  with- 
out much  change  of  direction,  shaving  only  the  splinter 
which  had  cut  Hal's  eyebrow  upon  one  of  the  fluted 
ridges  of  the  "  pot."     A  few  minutes  more  and  Zered 


122  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Tuby,  crouching  before  the  rough  trunk  of  the  biggest 
pine  in  Hail  Mary  Wood,  was  busy  as  a  beaver  with 
probing  operations.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  had 
pushed  out  something  from  the  glistening  white  wood. 
He  held  it,  still  moist  with  pine-gum,  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand  and  regarded  it  suspiciously.  Then  he  slipped  a 
hand  into  his  bullet  pouch  and  extracted  a  second  bullet 
to  lay  beside  the  first — the  one  with  the  sliver  missing. 

He  rose  hastily  to  his  feet.  The  two  bullets  had  mani- 
festly been  cast  in  the  same  mould.  They  were  identical 
even  to  the  little  double  circle  which  marked  the  produce 
of  the  Parliamentary  ammunition  factory  at  London 
Wall. 

"  My  God,"  the  searcher  gasped,  holding  the  two 
bullets  close  to  his  eye  as  if  he  could  scarcely  be  con- 
vinced, "  it  is  a  Hog  Lane  bullet !  We  have  a  Judas  in 
the  camp ! " 


XIII 
TOBIAS  MOLE,  EXPERT  IN  WOMEN 

BUT  Zered  made  no  report  of  his  discovery  to  Hal 
Ludlow.  He  must  watch  and  make  up  his  mind. 
So  he  wrapped  the  ball  he  had  dug  from  out  of  the 
big  pine  in  a  fragment  of  cloth  along  with  the  chip  he  had 
taken  out  of  his  Captain's  eyebrow,  and  stowed  both  in 
his  waist-flap  against  the  day  of  wrath  and  judgment. 
He  even  encouraged  the  Hog  Laners  to  go  searching,  and 
watched  the  men  who  were  most  forward.  But  he  could 
come  to  no  decision. 

Zered's  gloomy  brow  impressed  the  men  when  they 
returned  from  their  fruitless  chase,  but  they  knew  the 
little  man's  fierce  afiFection  for  his  young  Captain,  and 
respected  his  gloomy  silence. 

And  truly  Zered  had  much  upon  his  mind. 

"  If  there  be  amongst  us  a  man  willing  to  shoot  his 
Captain  when  he  is  lying  as  good  as  asleep,  then  we  have 
amongst  us  a  man  who  is  willing  to  betray  our  plans  to 
the  enemy  and  the  sooner  we  get  out  of  Mersey  village 
the  better.  I  must  find  a  reason  for  crossing  the  Black- 
water  before  the  Captain  wakes." 

But  he  was  saved  his  pains,  for  a  tumult  in  the  camp 
announced  something  remarkable  in  the  opinion  of  the 
Hog  Laners.  He  looked  out  and  saw  Loud  Tom 
Christopher  and  three  followers  advancing  along  the 
water  front,  hived  about  and  questioned  in  vain  by  the 
whole  troop  of  Hog  Laners.  They  were  making  for  the 
Captain's  quarters. 

"  This  way — this  way,"  cried  Lieutenant  Zered,  wav- 

123 


124*  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

ing  his  arms  emphatically ;  "  let  the  Captain  sleep  his 
sleep  out." 

Loud  Tom  and  his  companions  had  now  been  joined  by 
the  fifth  of  their  band,  Doe  Royds,  whom  they  had 
brought  with  them  from  the  slippery  Quaker's  house  at 
Boreham  Barns. 

"  Come  into  my  quarters  and  let  me  hear  what  you 
have  to  say!  You  men,  get  to  your  places.  The  cor- 
porals will  see  to  it  that  all  the  men  are  summoned  from 
the  marsh  by  sound  of  trumpet  and  that  all  the  horses 
are  saddled  and  ready!  And  now  (he  turned  upon  the 
Boreham  men)  in  with  you  and  let  me  hear  your  story. 
Ha,  what  are  you  doing  there,  Doe  Royds?  You  were 
not  upon  intelligence  duty." 

"  I  am  of  the  band,"  said  Doe  sullenly.  "  I  have  always 
gone  with  Loud  Tom  and  the  mates  I  " 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Zered  grimly,  "  at  Boreham.  But 
you  will  obey  orders  here.  Back  to  your  troop  in- 
stantly." 

"  As  you  say.  Lieutenant,  as  you  say,"  the  big  man 
answered  with  something  dogged  and  sycophantish  in 
his  manner ;  "  but  I  mistook,  what  with  its  always  being 
the  rule  for  us  Boreham  men  to  stick  together.  I  asks 
your  pardon.  Lieutenant  Zered  Tuby !  " 

And  with  a  sketched  salute  the  discarded  fifth  lounged 
sulkily  away. 

"  Hulking  brute !  "  growled  the  Lieutenant  between  his 
teeth,  but  he  wasted  no  more  thought  upon  him,  being 
eager  to  hear  the  adventures  of  Loud  Tom  and  his  sub- 
ordinates.   Tom  began  at  once. 

"  We  made  our  first  station  at  Boreham  Barns.  We 
found  it  wholly  deserted,  but  everything  had  been  left 
in  place,  the  carts,  ploughs,  harrows,  and  farm  gear  each 
in  its  separate  shed.  This  caused  us  to  bethink  ourselves, 
and  we  noticed  that — well,  that  much  work  had  been 
done  about  the  Barns  since  our  departure — carefully  done 
too — as  if  Silas  Seale  had  been  looking  on.     Then  we 


TOBIAS  MOLE,  EXPERT  IN  WOMEN     125 

came  upon  certainty.  Tobias  Mole,  who  was  ever  a  great 
one  to  take  notice,  caught  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  to 
the  threshing-floor. 

"  There,"  says  he,  "  this  very  same  Tobias  here  (he 
laid  his  hand  upon  a  grinning  colleague,  whose  expres- 
sion indicated  no  such  acuity  of  judgment),  this  here 
Tobias,  he  says  to  me,  'Tom  (says  he),  what  do  you 
notice  about  this  threshing-floor  ? '  '  Why,  that  it  has 
been  swept,'  says  I.  '  Swept — aye,  so  it  has,  but  did  you 
ever  see  a  threshing-floor  swept  like  that  before?  Round 
and  round,  beginning  from  the  outside  till  all  was  gathered 
into  the  centre  and  then  lifted  clean  away  with  one  heave 
of  the  braded  shovel?  Why,  so  old  Master  did  sweep 
always  and  never  trusted  none  of  us.'  '  Tobias  Mole,' 
says  I,  '  thou  art  no  blind  mole.  Old  Master  Scale  it 
were  and  he  swept  in  no  great  hurry  either,  for  he  never 
did  a  tidier  job.  And  now,  Tobias,  what  wouldst  thou 
like  for  thy  clear  sight  and  good  counsel  ? ' 

" '  Now't  but  what  I  can't  have.  Loud  Tom,' 
says  he,  'and  that's  a  jug  of  good  cider  to  drink 
your  health ! ' 

"  Well,"  I  promised  him,  "  for  that  thou  shalt  not 
lose  by  the  waiting." 

It  was  evident  that  Loud  Tom  left  to  himself  would 
take  a  long  time  to  relate  all  the  incidents  of  his  adventure, 
so  the  Lieutenant,  waxing  impatient,  decided  to  proceed 
by  question  and  answer.  He  evolved  with  outward 
patience  but  with  much  internal  fuming  the  following 
facts,  which  to  Loud  Tom's  mind,  aided  by  the  instinct  of 
Tobias  Mole,  seemed  indisputable. 

Silas  Scale  had  carried  off  everything  in  the  way  of 
victual,  corn,  and  fodder  to  an  unknown  destination. 
This  he  had  done  with  the  help  of  assistants  unused  to 
field  or  farm  work,  whose  deficiencies  he  had  supplied  in 
person.  The  trail  of  the  waggons  could  be  traced  in  the 
direction  of  the  outposts  of  Danbury  Towers. 

Furthermore,  Silas  Scale  had  been  paid  for  his  goods. 


126  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

He  was  no  man  to  work  for  nothing.  Lastly,  Borehani' 
was  no  safe  headquarters  for  Tom  and  his  mates.  If 
Silas  Seale  was  at  the  Towers  he  might  return  any  day 
to  see  that  his  goods  were  undisturbed  or  to  draw  upon 
one  or  other  of  his  secret  caches  and  graineries. 

"  So  (continued  Tom),  us  went  to  the  Red  Cow,  which 
is  a  hostel  by  the  roadside  with  much  stabling  and  a  loft 
with  a  safe  double-exit  in  case  we  must  be  packing  in  a 
hurry." 

"  And  what  about  the  castle  ?  "  demanded  Lieutenant 
Tuby,  fierce  as  a  little  terrier  at  a  rat-hole.  He  contained 
himself  with  difficulty  in  face  of  Loud  Tom's  long- 
windedness.  But  he  recognised  that  it  was  impossible 
to  hurry  the  ex-oversman.  He  would  answer  questions, 
but  the  details  had  to  be  dribbled  out  in  his  own  way. 
As  for  the  others  they  sat  open-mouthed  at  their  su- 
perior's mastery  of  words.  "  Tom  he  do  speak  better  nor 
owd  passon !  "  was  the  appraising  comment  of  Tobias 
Mole  the  judicious. 

So,  in  a  kind  of  agony  lest  his  Captain  should  wake  up 
before  he  was  in  possession  of  all  the  facts,  Zered  Tuby 
sat  tugging  at  his  short  curls  or  knitting  his  hands  till 
the  joints  cracked,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  master  impa- 
tience. 

"  The  little  Lady  goes  not  so  much  about  with  the 
officers  as  she  was  used  to  do — never  no  more  market  o' 
Fridays.  She  keeps  more  to  herself,  and  the  owd  Scots- 
man with  the  voice  like  a  braying  ass  gives  most  orders 
in  her  name." 

"  Now  we  are  coming  to  it,"  thought  Zered,  and 
tightened  his  grip  upon  himself. 

"  Aye,  aye,  but  we  were  the  cunning  lads,"  Loud  Tom 
chuckled,  turning  his  alert  blue  eyes  upon  his  com- 
panions ;  "  we  got  took  on  at  Woodham  Walter  to  help 
with  the  hay,  and  we  helped  right  enough.  Indeed,  we 
might  have  been  there  to  this  minute,  but  for  one  thing — 
aye,  aye,  ha,  ha — but  for  one  thing " 


TOBIAS  MOLE,  EXPERT  IN  WOMEN    127 

"  And  what  was  the  one  thing? "  snapped  Zered  Tuby 
impatiently. 

"  That  one  thing  were  very  special  particular,  eh, 
mates  (he  laughed  again  and  slapped  his  thigh),  and 
well-nigh  got  us  all  fitted  with  hempen  collars,  eh,  lads? 
'Twas  so,  wasn't? " 

"  Now't  less  than  the  sight  of  old  Silas  Scale  with  his 
broad  hat  and  drab-skirted  coat  coming  dodging  between 
the  hay-coles.  That  was  enough  for  us.  We  threw 
down  our  scythes  and  broke  for  the  wood !  " 

"  And  high  time  too,  it  was  me  what  got  my  eye  on 
the  owd  badger !  "  Tobias  Mole  agreed. 

"  I  do  not  see  that  you  have  done  very  much  after  all, 
and  you  have  been  a  precious  long  time  about  it.  I  can 
tell  you  I  should  not  like  to  face  Colonel  Cromwell  with 
such  a  tale !  " 

The  four  men  looked  at  each  other  and  smiled  con- 
tentedly. It  was  obvious  that  they  at  least  thought  well 
of  themselves  and  were  satisfied  with  their  doings. 

"  Maybe,"  said  Loud  Tom  easily.  "  But  you  see,  Zered 
Tuby " 

"  Lieutenant,  if  you  please !  " 

"  Well  (as  if  humouring  him).  Master  Lieutenant 
Zered,  an  it  please  you,  we  have  first  to  see  Captain  and 
he  will  bear  us  out — with  Colonel  Cromwell !  " 

"See  the  Captain — and  why?"  Zered  almost  barked 
at  them,  so  great  was  his  exasperation.  "  What  have  you 
to  tell  the  Captain  that  you  cannot  tell  me  ?  " 

"  To  tell  him — not  much,  but  we  have  this  to  give 
him,"  and  from  a  capacious  pocket  Loud  Tom  produced 
a  dainty  letter,  written  on  fine  Dutch  paper,  and  folded 
into  the  form  known  as  a  "  Buckingham  posy."  It  was 
sealed  in  pale  blue  wax,  and  on  the  front  appeared  this 
image  and  superscription: — 

"  To  the  Honourable  Gentleman,  Captain  Henry  Lud- 
low, Present  These.    Haste,  Post  Haste! " 


128  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

The  Lieutenant  turned  the  dainty  missive  contumeli- 
ously  over  in  his  hand,  stirring  it  with  his  forefinger  like 
medicine  in  a  glass. 

"And  where  got  ye  the  like  of  that?"  he  inquired 
gruffly.  He  saw  the  best  part  O'f  the  inquiry  escaping 
out  of  his  hands,  and  with  all  his  heart  he  desired  to 
have  a  connected  plan  ready  to  lay  before  his  chief  when 
he  should  awake. 

"  The  Lady  Molly  gave  it  to  us — I  mean  to  Tobias 
Mole,  for  'twas  he  that  passed  her  Captain's  letter  when 
nobody  was  looking,  and  she  stood  by  the  gate  of  Rusty 
Rook  pasture  watching  us  stropping  our  scythe-blades 
time  about  with  a  Yorkshire  hone.  Yes,  time  about  we 
did  it  and  it  came  to  Tobias  Mole's  turn  when  she  called 
to  him. 

"  '  Mind  your  blade,  man.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  all 
the  time  instead  of  minding  your  business?'" 

Tobias  Mole  keckled  like  a  hen  which  has  laid  one 
whole  and  undivided  Qgg. 

"  I  always  were  a  great  one  to  take  notice  o'  women," 
he  admitted,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Well,  and  what  did  you  say,  you  giggling  fool?  " 

The  little  black-a-vised  Lieutenant  was  almost  out  of 
hand  now. 

"  Why,  sur,  I  told  her  I  could  not  keep  my  eyes  off  the 
prettiest  lady  I  had  ever  seen !  " 

"  Danged  if  he  didn't,"  cried  Loud  Tom,  thumping  his 
knee ;  "  said  that,  he  did !  " 

"  Twelve  pence !  "  said  the  Lieutenant,  glad  to  have 
found  a  weapon ;  "  twelve  pence  for  swearing !  " 

"  Oh,  never  fear  but  I  will  pay,  Zered  Tuby,  as  soon 
as  I  have  seen  the  Captain.  He  will  give  me  more  than 
twelve  pence  for  this  dainty  little  package.  But  to  the 
tale — o'  course  we  thought  it  'twas  all  over  with  poor 
Tobias,  speaking  so  to  a  lady.  But  that  only  showed 
what  fools  we  were.  She  called  him  up  to  her  and  they 
spoke  together  private-like  for  full  ten  minutes," 


TOBIAS  MOLE,  EXPERT  IN  WOMEN     129 

"  Haw,  lads,  I  knowed  she  would,  bless  her.  I  know 
how  to  speak  to  womenfolk — always  did.  'Tis  a 
gift!" 

"  So  'tis,  and  we  slipped  him  Captain's  letter  to  give  to 
her,  seeing  Tobias  and  she  were  such  gossips !  " 

"  Aye,  that  we  were,  and  she  took  the  letter  and  put 
it  away  careful  in  her  bodice,  without  ever  so  much  as 
asking  who  it  were  from. 

"  Women  are  like  that,"  pontified  Tobias ;  "  they  be 
for  ever  expecting  letters  and  valentines  to  fall  into  their 
hands  out  of  the  sky." 

"  And  how  came  the  Captain  to  send  a  letter  to  the 
chief  of  the  enemy's  forces,  without  saying  anything 
about  it  to  me,  his  Lieutenant?  " 

The  four  men  winked  with  such  an  air  of  superior 
knowledge  that  Zered  cried  out,  "If  you  want  to  get 
your  heads  knocked  together  and  to  ride  the  wooden 
horse  an  hour  apiece,  keep  on  as  you  are  doing." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Lieutenant,"  explained  Loud  Tom, 
instantly  losing  something  of  his  debonair  assurance, 
"  us  don't  think  that  he  wrote  to  the  chief  of  the  enemy, 
as  your  honour  says,  but  more  as  you  might  to  your 
sweetheart — always  supposing  that  your  honour  had  such 
a  thing." 

"  I  beg  you  will  leave  me  out  of  the  matter  altogether 
— you  and  your  sweethearts." 

"  Well,  I  dun  know,"  said  Loud  Tom,  "  most  of  us  has 
to  undergo  our  fate  that  way  some  time  or  other — and 
some  more  than  wonst !     But  your  honour  knows  best." 

"  Go  on  with  your  tale — do  you  understand  that?" 

The  men  saluted  and  paused  for  Loud  Tom,  who  could 
talk  like  an  auctioneer,  and  was  much  admired  because 
he  had  never  been  known  to  be  at  a  loss  for  a  word. 

"  The  Lady  Molly  she  took  a  most  remarkable  liking  to 
Tobias  Mole  and " 

"  Always  knowed  how  to  talk  to  'em  all  my  life — al- 
ways did  and  always  will,"  murmured  Tobias,  not  wish- 


130  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

ing  to  interrupt,  but  simply  for  his  own  satisfaction, 
which  was  great  at  that  moment. 

"  She  bade  him  come  back  to  the  stile  of  the  Rusty- 
Rook  pasture,  that  night  come  three.  Mole  he  was  there. 
They  talked  full  half  an  hour — aye,  good — by  a  stopped 
clock,  as  the  saying  is." 

"  Always  knew  what  to  say  to  'em,  always,"  repeated 
Tobias  Mole,  combing  his  beard  with  his  fingers ;  "  never 
was  a  woman  yet " 

"What  did  she  say?"  Zered  demanded  hotly.  "Tell 
me  without  any  more  fool's  talk.  What  care  I  about 
your  sweethearts  and  sweethearting?  " 

"  About  ours — ^nothing,"  said  Mole  judicially,  consider- 
ing the  question,  "  but  about  Captain  Hal's — I  wager 
you  will  think  a  good  deal." 

"  Anything  more  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Only  that  the  Lady  Molly  asked  about  Captain  and 
about  her  father " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  were  such  fools 
as  to  say  that  you  belonged  to  Captain  Ludlow's  troop? 
That  you  told  her  that  you  were  Parliament  soldiers  ?  " 

"  Us  told  her  nothing.  She  did  not  need  to  be  told. 
Captain  had  put  it  all  in  his  letter,  and  said  as  how 
she  could  place  the  utmost  confidence  in  us.  Mole 
there  answered  her  questions,  and  spoke  sometimes  a 
good  lie,  sometimes  a  good  truth  according  to  circum- 
stances." 

"  Circumstances — 'tisn't  no  circumstances,"  said  Mole ; 
"  'tis  knowing  how  to  talk  to  'em." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  fool,"  said  Zered ;  "  she  gave 
you  this  letter  and  she  came  to  the  gate  of  Rusty  Rook 
pasture." 

"  'Tisn't  a  gate — 'tis  nobbut  but  a  stile,  Mr.  Lieu- 
tenant." 

"  And  how  far  from  the  castle  ?  " 

"  A  good  half  mile,"  said  Loud  Tom ;  "  but  we  could 
do  nothing,  for  there  was  one  of  them  pottering  little 


TOBIAS  MOLE,  EXPERT  IN  WOMEN     131 

forts  with  a  sentry  going  back  and  forth  as  regular  as 
pendulum  stroke  only  a  pistol-shot  away." 

The  door  opened  and  Captain  Hal  Ludlow,  still  blink- 
ing from  his  sleep  but  with  his  head  wonderfully  clear 
and  recovered  from  the  bullet  which  had  dinted  his  hel- 
met, came  slowly  in. 

"  What's  all  this  ? "  he  asked  sharply,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  till  he  had  scanned  each  in  turn. 

Then  Tobias  Mole  rose  to  his  feet  and  as  the  man 
who  "  knowed  all  about  it  always  "  presented  the  letter, 
with  the  confidential  bow  of  an  expert  in  such  matters. 


XIV 
LADY  MOLLY  LEARNS  TO  SAY  "  PLEASE  " 


T 


HE  message  began  with  a  masterly  disregard  of  in- 
troduction or  ornamental  adjective  which  had  char- 
acterised his  own. 


"  Hal  (it  ran),  I  have  noways  changed  my  mind  about 
you  though  I  am  now  writing  to  you.  Being  surrounded 
by  loyal  gentlemen  devoted  to  me,  I  have  constantly 
before  my  eyes  the  opposites  to  your  brutality.  Never- 
theless, to  prove  that  I  am  in  no  wise  afraid  of  you,  Hal 
Ludlow,  I  shall  do  as  you  say,  and  meet  you  at  the  stile 
by  which  the  road  into  Crow  Wood  passes  out  of  the  Red 
Cow  meadows — you  know  the  place.  On  the  night  of 
Wednesday  at  ten  of  the  clock  I  shall  be  there.  So  much 
I  promise  you,  not  because  I  care  aught  for  you,  but 
because  of  the  ancient  ill-deserved,  ill-requited  favour  my 
father  has  shown  you.  If  any  treachery  is  intended,  it 
shall  come  from  your  side,  and  on  your  conscience  be  it. 

"  I  know  well  that  you  are  capable  of  any  baseness 
and  that  you  have  set  spies  upon  me,  which  is  well  within 
the  character  of  Hal  Ludlow.  I  know  that  gallant  rebel 
of  yore,  and  make  him  my  compliments  upon  the  courage 
which  leads  him  to  reserve  his  brutalities  for  women, 
but  carefully  to  abstain  from  attacking  a  castle  garrisoned 
by  men. 

"  My  remembrances  to  my  brave  Captain  Crophead 
and  so  no  more  from 

"Molly  Woodham." 

Hal  communicated  a  general  idea  of  the  contents  to  his 
Lieutenant,  who  pouted  out  his  under  lip  and  mused. 

132 


LADY  MOLLY  LEARNS  TO  SAY  "PLEASE"  133 

"If  Lady  Molly  Woodham  were  in  my  rank  of  life  and 
sent  me  a  letter  like  that,  do  you  know  what  I  should 
conclude  about  the  matter?  " 

"  No,"  quoth  Hal,  "  I  do  not,  except  that  she  was 
exceedingly  insolent  and  angry." 

The  little  warrior  passed  his  superior's  interpretation 
without  a  comment.  Anything  so  commonplace  was  un- 
worthy of  his  consideration. 

"  I  should  draw  the  conclusion  tliat  she  was  provoking 
me  of  intention,  and  that  she  would  not  be  at  all  sorry 
to  be  carried  ofif !  " 

"  Ah,  Zered,  you  little  know  the  Lady  Molly  when  you 
say  so.  She  hates  me — she  has  always  hated  me — and 
told  me  so  when  last  she  saw  me " 

"Well,  maybe  so,"  said  Lieutenant  Tuby;  "  Gedney 
and  French  Drove  are  not  Danbury  Towers  and  Wood- 
ham  Walter.  Maybe  they  make  the  nature  of  women 
different  in  such  places.  But  when  I  was  a  younger  man 
and  more  given  to  paying  attention  to  the  frivolities  of 
maids,  if  Bess  Merridew  or  Patience  Talmash  had  sent 
me  such  a  scribble  all  written  in  her  own  hand,  with 
words  crossed  out  and  written  over,  I  should  have  known 
what  to  do." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  laughed  the  little  man,  "  I  have  not  passed 
by  all  these  follies  and  become  a  head-man  in  Zion  to  be 
giving  advice  to  young  men  what  they  should  do.  Let 
their  own  hearts  determine.  But  if  it  be  Colonel  Crom- 
well's orders  for  us  to  capture  and  bring  away  this 
spritely  maiden,  I  do  not  think  we  shall  need  to  trouble 
about  a  gag  for  our  prisoner.  She  will  not  cry  out  loud 
enough  to  alarm  anyone." 


The  night  of  Wednesday  about  ten  of  the  clock  saw 
the  entire  Hog  Lane  Troop  ranged  in  a  wide  demi-lune 
about  the  woods  of  Rusty  Crow,  and  only  the  path  from 


134.  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

the  castle  left  free.  It  was  difficult  to  keep  the  horses 
from  tossing  their  heads  and  the  accoutrements  from 
jingling,  but  the  men  managed  it  somehow.  They 
tethered  their  beasts  to  fir  trees  under  which  the  three- 
foot  couch  of  dry  needles  gave  no  sound.  They  bandaged 
the  horses'  eyes  and  sank  soft  noses  into  nose-bags, 
cloaks  were  thrown  over  chargers'  necks  and  stirrups 
were  caught  up  to  prevent  them  clanking.  Hog  Lane, 
secretly  much  amused  at  being  called  out  to  assist  its 
Captain's  amours  in  full  military  array,  grinned  joyously 
in  the  darkness.  That  is  to  say  all  the  younger  part  of 
the  command  did  so.  For  the  others  the  fact  that  it  was 
Colonel  Cromwell's  orders  sufficed.  Only  Doe  Royds, 
fifth  of  the  Boreham  men,  a  strong  sulky  brute,  tried  to 
spread  a  vague  ill-feeling.  But  he  lacked  the  delicacy  of 
touch  requisite  for  military  sedition.  In  fact  he  ran  a 
strong  risk  of  being  "  buffed  on  the  head  "  and  pitched 
into  a  ditch,  a  fate  which  would  have  saved  considerable 
trouble,  but  owing  to  the  present  good  temper  of  the 
company  and  their  respect  for  brand-new  regimentals, 
such  as  he  wore,  the  opportunity  was  lost. 

The  sense  of  life  and  adventure  beat  high  in  Hal  Lud- 
low, Captain  of  horse  in  Cromwell's  new  command.  He 
recalled  somehow  Queen  Bess's  words  that  England 
would  always  be  saved  by  her  adventurers.  He  loved 
England,  or  at  least  he  thought  so.  At  any  rate,  he 
loved  the  adventure  he  was  on — Crow  Wood,  high  and 
black  overhead,  the  distant  lights  of  the  castle,  and  the 
dewy  path,  which  led  through  the  waist-high  meadow- 
sweet and  high  brome  grasses  to  the  stile  of  the  Red 
Cow  pasture.  Would  Molly  bring  an  escort  with  her? 
Would  she  come  at  all?  Was  it  not  rather  a  trap,  and 
would  they  not  find  themselves  surrounded  by  the  entire 
garrison  of  the  Towers  and  all  the  Brown  Octobers  whom 
Rupert  had  not  swept  off  in  his  company? 

Hal  waited  and  listened.  It  would  be  a  strange  love- 
tryst,  within  reach  of  sixty  pair  of  eyes  had  the  night 


LADY  MOLLY  LEARNS  TO  SAY  "PLEASE"  135 

been  lighter  and,  dark  or  light,  of  as  many  ears.  Im- 
mediately behind  was  his  faithful  Lieutenant,  Zered  Tuby, 
who  held  Hereward  ready  to  mount.  But  of  all  this 
nothing  appeared.  The  wind  sighed  among  the  tall 
rookery  trees.  The  birds  awoke  with  sleepy  squabblings 
and  dropped  off  again.  Not  the  clink  of  a  buckle  or  the 
jingle  of  a  spur  came  to  his  ear  as  he  stood  with  one  hand 
laid  lightly  on  the  broad  top  of  the  Red  Cow  stile,  waiting 
for  the  arrival  of  the  chatelaine  of  Danbury  Towers, 
presently  in  arms  against  the  Parliament — but  his  own 
little  Molly  Woodham  just  the  same. 

He  was  standing  thus,  every  sense  alert,  when  out  of 
the  underbrush  between  him  and  Zered  a  slim  figure 
flitted.  He  heard  the  click  of  Zered's  pistol  as  the  dog 
was  pushed  full  cock. 

The  figure  vanished  again.  Five  minutes — ten  minutes 
passed  and  nothing  happened.  The  strain  was  telling 
upon  Hog  Lane  and  chiefly  upon  Hog  Lane  horses,  which 
did  not  understand  the  necessity  of  standing  still  so 
long. 

But  at  last  Hal  became  conscious  that  someone  was 
approaching  him  by  the  path  which  leads  across  the  tall 
grass.  He  could  hear  the  swish  of  skirts,  and  the  fall  of 
hasty  footsteps.  A  curlew,  scared  from  her  nest,  flew 
straight  towards  him,  and  then  doubtless  scared  by  the 
semicircle  of  mounted  men,  soared  suddenly  higher  and 
disappeared  with  a  shriek  in  the  direction  of  the  sea. 

"  Are  you  there,  Hal  Ludlow  ? "  cried  the  voice  of 
Molly  Woodham,  sounding  quite  unnecessarily  loud; 
"  come  and  speak  with  me  if  you  are  not  afraid.  Ah,  you 
are  there — how  gallant  a  gentleman!  Now  you  keep 
your  side  of  the  stile  and  I  shall  keep  mine.  What  have 
you  to  say  to  me,  now  that  I  am  here  ?  " 

"  I  say  that  I  love  you,  Molly,"  the  Captain  leaned  across 
and  spoke  low  and  earnestly.  He  was  morbidly  conscious 
of  more  than  fivescore  male  ears  trained  upon  him,  all 
most  anxious  to  know  how  he  would  acquit  himself. 


136  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  I  love  you,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  leave  you  among  a 
pack  of  ribald  squires  and  foreign  runagates." 

"  I  notice  that  you  have  carefully  abstained  from 
attacking  those  whom  you  abuse,"  said  the  Lady  Molly 
loftily ;  "  you  always  were  free  with  your  tongue,  Hal 
Ludlow,  but  that  proves  nothing." 

"  We  are  coming  to  that,  Molly.  Basing  will  fall,  and 
the  Towers  will  fall.  The  men  who  do  the  storming  are 
not  tender-hearted  at  such  times.  They  lose  distinction. 
I  cannot  expose  you  to  the  risks  of  a  capture  by  as- 
sault  " 

"  You — you — and  pray  who  are  you  to  say  you  cannot 
have  this  and  you  forbid  that  where  I  am  concerned? 
Why,  my  own  father  dared  not " 

"  The  more's  the  pity  then,  for  I  dare,  Mistress  Molly, 
and  I  shall  see  to  it  that  you  obey  me !  " 

He  leaned  suddenly  towards  the  slender  cloaked  figure 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Red  Cow  stile.  A  long  arm 
gathered  her  up  (by  surprise  or  not,  who  shall  decide?) 
and  in  a  moment  Molly  was  lifted  clear  across  into  the 
shelter  of  Rusty  Crow  wood.  She  heard  the  rustle  of 
horse  trappings.  Her  cloak  was  wound  about  her  arms 
and  head.  Willing  arms  deposited  her  in  before  Hal 
Ludlow,  a  sharp  word  of  command,  and  through  the 
night,  the  troop  of  sixty  Hog  Laners  took  their  road  for 
the  county  boundary. 

"  Be  quiet  for  ten  miles,  Molly,"  said  Hal  Ludlow ; 
"  you  have  been  a  good  girl  so  far  and  show  your  sense  by 
not  crying  out.  We  should  only  have  to  gag  you  and 
tie  your  ankles.  Wait  till  we  get  to  Witham  and  you 
shall  have  a  horse  of  your  own  to  ride." 

"  I  am  not  complaining,"  said  Lady  Molly.  "  I  never 
knew  that  you  were  so  much  O'f  a  man  before." 

"Oh,  very  well,  so  be  it,"  said  Hal;  "I  am  all  the 
man  you  shall  need,  little  Molly.  But  do  lean  a  little 
back  and  keep  your  finger  off  my  bridle-rein.  Can't  you 
see  Hereward  does  not  like  it?" 


LADY  MOLLY  LEARNS  TO  SAY  "PLEASE"  137 

"  How  can  I  see  anything  with  this  cloak  about  my 
head?" 

"  Well,  Molly,  wait  a  little — there,  you  have  more  air 
that  way.  You  shall  see  everything  in  good  time.  I  have 
all  I  can  do  to  keep  Hereward  up  in  this  abominable  wood. 
I  cannot  see  to  avoid  the  fallen  timber.  There  goes 
someone  over  his  horse's  head  with  noise  enough  to 
bring  all  the  thieves  in  Essex  upon  us.  Who  is  that 
man?  " 

"Doe  Royds,  Captain!" 

"  I  have  a  new  mount,  Captain,"  growled  Royds, 
gathering  himself  up ;  "  won't  obey  the  bridle." 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  front  of  the  command?  "  Hal 
snarled  angrily.     "  Go  to  the  rear  and  stop  there." 

Doe  Royds  had  ranged  himself  as  close  as  he  could  to 
the  Red  Cow  stile,  so  that  he  might  hear  the  better.  If 
the  Lady  Molly  ran  for  it  and  made  good  her  escape,  he 
might  chance  to  be  able  to  give  her  a  lift  on  his  horse. 
He  would  then  decide  whether  there  was  most  to  be 
gained  by  turning  his  horse's  head  back  towards  the 
troop  to  deliver  up  his  prisoner,  or  by  riding  in  triumph 
to  the  Towers  as  the  chatelaine's  deliverer. 

Doe  Royds  believed  in  making  each  service  pay  its 
own  charges.  He  was  a  brute  who  thought  himself 
cunning,  and  had  long  got  rid  of  any  sentiments  of  honour 
or  sensibility.  Left  to  himself,  he  would  doubtless 
have  preferred  to  serve,  if  serve  he  must,  under  Rupert 
or  Maurice,  because  of  the  opportunities  of  rapine  and 
plunder  there  to  be  enjoyed  unchecked,  without  Crom- 
wellian  articles  of  discipline.  But  in  joining  the  Hog 
Laners  he  had  hardly  been  a  free  agent.  He  knew  so 
many  oi  the  secrets  of  the  Boreham  Barns'  men,  that 
with  Loud  Tom  and  his  comrades  it  was  a  choice  of 
bringing  him  with  them  or  putting  a  bullet  in  his  head. 
They  were  tender-hearted  men  and  thought  they  were 
doing  him  a  service  by  compelling  him  to  swear  allegiance 
to  Colonel  Cromwell  and  the  Parliament.     Neither  re- 


138  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

ligion  nor  morals,  neither  honest  feehng  nor  the  possi- 
bihty  of  honest  action,  had  Doe  Royds — only  a  great 
brawny  carcase  given  up  to  all  lusts  and  appetites — a 
most  strange  trooper  to  take  his  place  in  a  troop  of  God- 
fearing, devil-defying  Anabaptists.  One  grace  he  had, 
which  at  first  covered  everything  else.  He  was  no 
coward.  He  could  and  would  take  blows  with  any  man. 
He  rode  undismayed  in  the  charge,  rejoicing  in  the 
plunder  which  would  be  his,  and  the  vinous  and  carnal 
joys  the  sale  of  them  would  procure  him  in  the  slums  of 
the  first  garrison  town. 

At  Great  Withani  a  pony  was  procured  for  the  Lady 
Molly.  The  saddle  was  old  and  small,  but  she  mounted 
with  alacrity.  Behind  her  Zered  Tuby  smiled  sardoni- 
cally. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  he  whispered  to  his  Captain. 
"  She  is  happy  to  be  rid  of  them.  Blood  will  tell.  The 
wind  was  contrary  and  lo !  off  she  went  in  a  fluff  of  flame 
like  a  dry  whin  bush  when  a  match  is  set  to  it." 

The  Lady  Molly  would  gladly  have  ridden  alongside  of 
Hal  Ludlow  all  the  way.  But  as  they  were  not  yet  out 
of  the  zone  of  danger,  it  was  judged  best  to  keep  her  in 
the  middle  of  the  troop  under  care  of  Lieutenant  Zered 
and  the  big  ex-oversman  of  Boreham,  Tom  Christo- 
pher. 

Molly's  temper,  serene  in  the  moment  of  capture, 
flashed  out  at  this  indignity. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  would  try  to  escape?" 

"  Ye  might,  my  lady." 

"  And  if  I  give  you  my  word,  and  solemn  promise  ?  " 

"  Ye  might  change  your  mind,  my  lady !  " 

Zered  Tuby's  responses  came  prompt  as  "  Amen  "  in 
a  church. 

Lady  Molly  spurred  her  pony  to  force  a  way  through 
the  ranks,  but  solid  Hog  Lane  kept  a  wall  of  horse-flesh 
all  about  her,  and  her  bridle-rein  was  seized  by  Zered 
Tuby.    Then  little  Molly  Woodham  gave  way.    Her  face 


LADY  MOLLY  LEARNS  TO  SAY  "PLEASE"  139 

flushed  with  anger.  Her  ears  grew  pink.  She  looked  at 
Zered  with  assassinating  eyes.  "  Mighty  pretty  she  did 
look,"  affirmed  that  cool  warrior  afterwards,  "  all  in  a 
storm,  within  five  seconds.  War,  fury,  and  inky-black- 
ness, lightning  and  thunder-crash  and  rattle-bang  about 
a  man's  ears — then  all  over  and  packed  away  till  the 
next  time  in  the  inside  of  five  minutes.  That's  the 
woman  she  is.    No  duck-ponds  for  me !  " 

"  Hal,  they  are  laying  hands  upon  me — come  and 
help ! "  she  cried  to  Captain  Ludlow,  whose  helmet 
plume  she  could  see  stolidly  rising  and  dipping  in  the 
front  of  the  array. 

"  Nor  she  don't  stick  at  a  good  whopping  lie,"  medi- 
tated Zered,  without  letting  go.  "  Why,  nobody  has  set 
a  finger  on  her.  'Pony  frisky!'"  he  explained  to  his 
Captain,  when  the  latter  wheeled  to  know  what  was  the 
matter.  "  Might  have  run  away  with  the  lady — had  her 
halfway  back  to  the  Towers  by  this  time,  but  for  Zered's 
carefulness !  " 

His  irony  angered  Lady  Molly. 

"  Ride  by  me,  Captain  Ludlow,"  she  commanded 
haughtily.  "  I  am  not  used  to  such  freedom  from  under- 
lings." 

Hal  looked  awkward,  for  such  a  word  could  hardly  be 
applied  to  the  man  to  whom  he  owed  the  incorporation 
of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop.  But  Zered,  over  the  angry  little 
shoulder  of  his  enemy,  winked  appreciatively. 

"  If  it  be  your  will,  Captain,  I  can  lead  the  troop. 
The  country  is  more  open  here,  and  there  is  less  danger 
of  that  restive  pony  giving  us  the  slip." 

And  Zered  rode  his  charger  towards  the  head  of  the 
column. 

"  He  is  very  insolent,  that  little  man  with  the  black 
curls,"  said  Lady  Molly,  tossing  her  head ;  "  he  spoke 
familiarly  to  me,  and  snatched  at  my  horse's  bridle! 
Why  not  get  rid  of  him?  " 

"  His  ways  are  not  ours,"  said  Hal  soothingly,  "  but 


140  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

he  is  a  good  and  faithful  soldier  and  a  great  admirer  of 
yours !  " 

"  Admirer — an  insolent  psalm-singer !  " 

"  There  are  worse  things  than  psalms,  when  one  knows 
how  to  lead  them  to  a  good  tune." 

Captain  Hal  took  a  soothing  tone.  He  had  no  desire 
to  quarrel  with  free-spoken  Molly  Woodham  within 
hearing  of  Hog  Lane.  So,  like  many  another  man,  he 
temporised,  till  he  could  with  safety  resume  his  natural 
manner. 

"Whither  are  you  taking  me?"  she  demanded  sud- 
denly. "  This  is  not  the  way  to  my  father's  house.  He 
is  in  London." 

"  No,"  said  Hal  lightly,  "  the  road  to  London  is  far 
from  safe,  and  besides,  you  had  so  lately  left  your  father's 
house  against  his  will  that — I  judged  you  might  not  care 
to  be  taken  back  so  soon." 

"  Taken  back — you  speak  as  if  I  were  a  child  in  dis- 
grace— to  be  whipped  and  sent  supperless  to  bed !  " 

"  If  you  had  chanced  to  be  my  daughter,"  said  Hal 
smoothly,  "  that  is  precisely  how  I  should  have  looked 
at  the  matter." 

"  Tell  me  where,  Hal — not  to  prison?" 

Lady  Molly's  voice  grew  pleading  as  it  was  wont  to 
do  when,  in  the  days  of  Woodland  play,  Hal  Ludlow  had 
lifted  her  into  the  high  crotch  of  a  tree  or  upon  the  top 
of  a  wall. 

"  Let  me  down,  Hal — I  will  say  '  Please.' " 

And  now  Lady  Molly,  grown  to  be  a  woman,  was 
learning  to  say  "  Please  "  in  earnest. 


XV 

THE  LEAGUER  OF  TRUMPINGTON 

THAT  night  they  stopped  at  the  mill  of  Trumping- 
ton,  a  little  way  from  Cambridge.  There  the 
troop  lay  that  night,  uncomfortably  enough,  but 
Hal  did  not  wish  to  venture  on  into  the  town,  where  his 
prisoner  would  be  less  easily  guarded  than  in  the  coun- 
try. His  mind  was  set  upon  carrying  her  straight  to  Ely, 
to  put  her  under  the  powerful  protection  of  his  father  and 
Colonel  Cromwell. 

The  best  chamber  of  the  miller's  house  was  made  ready 
for  her  service,  and  there  she  and  Captain  Hal  supped 
together,  with  Lieutenant  Zered  going  out  and  in,  super- 
intending, not  (as  he  was  careful  to  explain)  from  any 
desire  to  play  Miss  Priscilla  Precise  of  Nag  Street,  but 
for  the  sake  of  the  troop. 

"  Tut,  Zered,"  said  Hal,  "  go  and  put  them  to  bed,  if 
they  are  such  particular  young  ladies." 

"  It  is  not  the  young  ladies  I  am  thinking  of,"  said 
Zered,  "  but  the  Hog  Lane  old  maids,  of  whom  the  chief 
is  named  Zachary  Elsegood." 

In  Molly  Woodham's  mind  a  little  scheme  was  hatch- 
ing. She  had  certainly  had  as  good  a  run  for  her  money 
as  any  girl  in  London — the  daughter  of  a  Parliament  Lord 
holding  a  castle  for  the  King,  levying  war  and  leading 
forays.  That  was  something  worth  doing  and  she  had 
done  it.  But  now  it  was  over,  and  she  could  not  hide 
from  herself  that  she  had  had  quite  enough  of  it.  Be- 
sides, she  had  let  herself  be  trapped  almost  too  easily. 
She  would  put  a  little  spoke  into  Master  Hal's  wheel.    He 

141 


142  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

was  getting  to  think  himself  all  too  clever.  A  little 
cutting  of  cockscombs  would  be  good  for  him. 

So  Molly  resolved  to  escape,  to  take  the  first  horse  she 
could  lay  hands  upon.  They  were  stabled  quite  near. 
She  could  hear  them  tossing  their  heads  and  rattling 
their  head  stalls.  She  would  ride  off  astride  and  bare- 
back, but  she  would  escape,  if  only  to  prove  that  she 
could.  If,  as  she  hoped,  she  was  retaken — well,  there 
was  no  dishonour  in  that,  with  a  whole  troop  of  Colonel 
Cromwell's  New  Model  horsemen  launched  in  pursuit. 

It  was  twelve  of  the  clock.  The  chimes  of  Cambridge 
came  faint  and  sweet  through  the  still  night  air.  The 
Lady  Molly  drew  her  cloak  about  her  and  approached 
the  door.  She  turned  the  handle  carefully.  She  heard 
the  latch  rise  and  the  way  was  open.  How  they  had 
trusted  her !  They  had  not  even  locked  her  in.  But  as 
she  moved  forward  to  go  down  the  stairs  which  led  to  the 
kitchen  door,  she  touched  something  hard  like  a  rim  or 
rail  which,  however,  gave  a  little  under  her  hand.  She 
pushed  a  little  more  strongly  and  immediately  brought 
Captain  Henry  Ludlow  to  his  feet,  asking  if  he  could  be 
of  any  use  to  her.  She  went  in  without  a  word  and 
slammed  the  door,  bolting  it  viciously  at  top  and  bottom. 
The  shameless  traitor  had  placed  four  oak  chairs  with 
their  backs  to  her  bedroom  door  and  laid  himself  down 
upon  them — "just  as  if  I  were  not  to  be  trusted!  "  she 
said. 

Well,  she  would  show  him,  she  would  wait  another 
hour  and  try  the  window.  She  sat  on  the  edge  of  her 
bed  and  being  wearied,  kept  awake  with  difficulty.  At 
times  she  dozed,  swaying  forward,  and  bringing  herself 
up  with  a  jerk.  She  seemed  to  have  slept  hours.  The 
dawn  would  soon  be  coming — so  she  stood  up,  and  with 
some  silent  temper  discovered  that  her  right  foot  had 
gone  to  sleep  in  earnest.  When  she  had  patted  and  fric- 
tioned  it  into  wakefulness,  she  crossed  to  the  window, 
walking    uncertainly    because    of    the    pins-and-needles 


THE  LEAGUER  OF  TRUMPINGTON     143*^ 

which  succeed  such  localised  slumbers.  Over  the  irregu- 
lar mill  building  the  stars  were  glittering.  It  was  still 
deep  night.  She  was  in  time.  Hope  flattered  her  heart. 
She  opened  the  window  cautiously  and  looked  out.  A 
man  in  a  steel  helmet  with  white  plumes  stood  directly 
underneath.  She  could  see  the  dull  glint  of  light  on  his 
musket  barrel,  and  the  broad  luminosity  of  the  shining 
breastplate. 

"  A  good  night  to  you,  my  lady,"  said  Lieutenant 
Zered  Tuby,  in  his  calmest  manner,  "  but  the  river  fog 
is  treacherous  on  the  marshes.  If  I  were  you  I  should 
shut  the  window  and  go  prettily  to  sleep." 

The  window  was  shut  instantly,  and  the  Lieutenant 
chuckled.  Molly  was  so  offended  by  the  mistrust  of 
these  men  that  she  resolved  out  of  revenge  not  to  sleep  a 
wink  that  night.  That  would  show  them.  She  took  off 
her  riding  habit,  tossed  abroad  her  hair  and  lay  down, 
resolved  to  spend  the  night  brooding  upon  her  wrongs. 

And  no  one  who  knows  what  such  wrongs  are  at 
twenty  years  of  age  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
Lady  Molly  Woodham  was  fast  asleep  in  two  minutes 
of  the  clock. 


Next  morning  the  little  lady's  temper  was  no  better, 
but  contrariwise  if  anything  a  little  worse. 

"How  can  I  ride  a  brute  like  that?"  she  declared  as 
she  looked  at  the  pony  being  saddled  in  the  mill  yard, 
"  bow-legged,  hunchbacked,  and  goes  like  a  caterpillar." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,  Molly,"  said  Captain  Hal, 
'*'  so  from  the  stables  of  the  '  Royal  Charles '  I  procured 
a  pretty  mare  of  good  Arab  blood  which  once  belonged 
to  my  Lord  Buckingham." 

"  I  will  ride  none  of  your  hired  horses !  What,  go  to 
Ely  like  a  travelling  packman — I  would  rather  walk !  " 

To  this  Hal  made  no  answer.  Though  he  had  an 
answer  ready,  this  was  not  the  time  to  give  it  air. 


144  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  I  will  not  ride  at  all.  I  will  ride  in  a  coach,  like  my 
Lord  Essex.     Send  and  order  one." 

"  You  would  not  like  it,  Molly — believe  me  the  roads 
across  the  fens  are  far  from  good.  Six  horses  could  not 
get  you  through  All  Hallow  Marsh.  The  carrier's  ordi- 
nary went  in  a  month  ago  and  is  sticking  there  yet." 

"Can  I  have  nothing  I  want?  I  shall  complain  to 
Colonel  Cromwell  how  you  have  used  me.  For  shame, 
Hal!  Think  how  we  used  to  run  the  wood,  you  and  I, 
listening  to  the  moor  birds " 

"  If  you  listen  now  you  will  hear  them,  and  riding 
with  me  all  day,  sufficiently  far  ahead  of  the  clamour  of 
the  troop,  we  shall  be  alone  in  the  midst  of  them.  The 
fen  is  populous  with  them !  " 

"  The  birds  weary  me.  I  will  not  be  deafened  with 
their  foolish  noise,  as  I  am  with  your  talk.  'Tis  enough 
to  drive  one  mad !  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Hal  tolerantly,  "  you  have  slept  ill. 
To-morrow  you  will  feel  better.  Soldiers'  quarters,  you 
know — we  shall  lodge  you  differently  to-night." 

"  Hal  Ludlow,  I  shall  not  move  an  inch — either  on 
your  borrowed  horse  or  in  a  coach.  I  order  you  to  send 
me  back  to  Danbury  where  men  are  men." 

Hal  took  the  big  cloak  which  had  enwrapped  her  on 
the  edge  of  Red  Cow  pasture.  He  cast  it  about  her  with 
a  cunning  swirl,  pulled  it  over  her  head  and  swung  her 
up  in  his  arms. 

"  Now,  madam,"  he  said,  "  it  is  all  the  same  to  me  if 
you  prefer  to  go  to  Ely  City  wrapped  about  like  a  cocoon 
on  my  saddle-bow.  Only  make  up  your  mind,  my  little 
lady." 

He  was  half  down  the  stairs  with  his  burden  on  his 
shoulder  when  the  spirit  of  the  old  Molly  Woodham  re- 
turned upon  her,  and  she  pled  with  him  as  from  the 
crotch  of  the  high  tree,  "  Oh,  Hal,  do  let  me  down,  I  will 
say  '  Please.'  " 


THE  LEAGUER  OF  TRUMPINGTON     145 

It  was  an  hour  after  Colonel  Cromwell's  return  from 
the  North  after  making  an  end  of  the  Cavendish  forayers 
and  their  chief  for  ever,  that  Hog  Lane  made  its  second 
entry  into  the  Ely  of  steep  gables,  red  roofs,  and  creamy 
whitewash. 

They  were  now  no  longer  the  scattering  crowd  of 
irregular  horsemen  which  had  brought  in  Dick  Lucy  from 
Gedney  Hill.  Hard  bitten,  close  ranked,  looking  straight 
before  them  they  passed  up  the  street,  their  arms  shining 
and  their  red  coats,  pride  of  the  New  Model  men,  well 
adjusted  about  them. 

Captain  Ludlow  rode  at  their  head  with  a  wonderfully 
handsome  girl  at  his  side — no  other  (so  ran  the  whisper) 
than  the  famous  Lady  Molly  Woodham,  Lord  Woodham 
Walter's  wayward  daughter — she  who  had  ridden  with 
Rupert  and  held  Danbury  Towers  for  the  King. 

Some  said  that  Hal  Ludlow,  their  own  little  Hal, 
whose  pranks  and  mischief  were  still  a  winter  night's 
talk  about  Ely  firesides,  had  with  bow  and  spear  taken 
the  castle  and  its  chatelaine.  Others,  and  these  were 
more  numerous  and  mostly  of  the  female  sex,  would  have 
it  that  she  had  followed  him  for  love.  He  had  held  up 
his  finger  and  lo !  "  O'er  moss  and  moor  she  followed 
him." 

It  may  easily  be  seen  that  the  second  was  the  favourite 
theory  in  the  Calvinistic  City,  for  Calvinism  always 
induces  much  sentiment  among  its  women  and  young 
men.  For  all  things  produce  their  contraries,  and  even 
down  to  mid- Victorian  times,  Defoe's  "  Religious  Court- 
ship "  and  Dr.  Brown's  "  Blessed  State  of  Matrimony  " 
were  reprinted  and  distributed  in  neat  little  keepsake 
editions  with  vignettes  in  red  and  blue,  surrounded  with 
wreaths  of  gilt  roses  (I  have  even  seen  a  bevy  of  blue 
cupids  each  as  bare  as  my  hand)  engarlanding  a  page 
about  affinities  or  the  choice  of  a  partner  in  life.  Ah, 
Mr.  Daniel  Foe  was  deeply  versed  in  the  ways  of  the 
human  heart  when  he  edited  those  two  hundred  pages  of 


146  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

commonplace  reflections  and  called  them  "  Religious 
Courtship."  The  title  was  a  guarantee  of  immortality, 
for  the  book  passes  current  to-day,  unread  but  not  un- 
bought,  especially  in  certain  corners  of  the  Celtic  fringe 
where  grave  men  with  long  beards  enforce  the  law  and 
the  prophets. 

At  any  rate,  the  theory  that  the  Lady  Molly  had  come 
at  the  crook  of  Captain  Hal's  finger  hurt  nothing  of  his 
popularity.  Nay,  an  indefinite  number  of  well-doing  and 
highly  respectable  young  women  felt  as  they  looked  after 
his  plumed  helmet  that  they  would  most  gladly  have 
done  the  same. 

The  cavalcade  turned  sharply  to  the  left  at  the  head 
of  the  market  square,  and  the  next  moment  they  were 
defiling  two  by  two  into  the  great  empty  yard  of  the 
Tithing  House. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me,  Hal  ?  " 

"  To  a  family  where  you  will  find  a  mother  .  .  .  and 
sisters,  fine  spirited  girls  who  will  love  you,  and  half  a 
dozen  soldier  brothers,  coming  and  going  at  all  times." 

"  Whose  house  is  this  ? "  Molly  demanded,  suddenly 
afraid.     "This  is  not  a  prison?" 

She  was  alarmed  at  the  air  of  silence  and  ordered  quiet 
which  impressed  most  people  making  their  first  ac- 
quaintance with  the  official  side  of  the  Cromwell  mansion. 
Hal  laughed  aloud  and  glanced  up  at  the  windows. 

"  Look,"  he  whispered,  and  turning  her  face  as  he 
indicated,  Lady  Molly  saw  the  smiling  faces  of  Dame 
Elizabeth,  of  Bridget  and  Bess  making  signals  of  welcome 
with  their  white  kerchiefs,  and  higher  up  Henry  Crom- 
well, with  a  tousled  head  looking  out  of  a  garret  window, 
brush  and  towel  in  hand. 

"  Hold  hard,  Hal,"  he  cried,  "  I  will  be  down  in  the 
crack  of  a  pistol." 

"  If  it  be  a  gaol,  you  will  admit  that  the  prisoners  seem 
fairly  content." 

"  Yes,"  said  Molly  anxiously,  "  but  who  are  they  ?  " 


THE  LEAGUER  OF  TRUMPINGTON     147 

The  question  was  soon  answered.  On  the  top  step 
appeared  the  tall  stern  figure  which  already  was  the 
best  known  in  all  the  Eastern  Counties,  as  it  was  soon  to 
be  throughout  the  three  kingdoms. 

Him  Hog  Lane  saluted  with  swiftly  bared  blade,  and 
at  the  sight  of  the  lady  the  tall  man  came  down,  moving 
with  a  certain  calm  stateliness  to  greet  her.  He  did  not 
need  to  be  told  that  Hal  Ludlow  with  Hog  Lane  at  his 
back  had  fulfilled  his  mission. 

He  bared  his  head  before  the  girl  and  courteously 
assisted  her  to  dismount. 

"  The  Lady  Molly  Woodham  ?  "  he  said  deferentially. 

"  I  am  Lord  Woodham  Walter's  daughter,"  answered 
Molly  a  little  uncertainly,  for  she  knew  not  what  re- 
ception her  escapade  might  receive  from  the  grim  man 
before  her.  She  would  have  been  more  alarmed  but  for 
a  tag  of  blue  ribbon  which  had  been  pinned  to  his  hair, 
and  of  which  he  was  obviously  unconscious.  (He  had,  in 
fact,  been  playing  in  the  Sundial  Court  with  Mall  and 
the  Baby  when  the  sound  of  hoofs  caught  his  ear.) 

"  I  am  Colonel  Oliver  Cromwell,"  he  said,  "  your 
father's  friend — and  for  his  sake,  Miss  Molly,  you 
must  allow  me  to  be  yours  also.  I  am  counted  a  rude 
man,  and  little  given  to  idle  words,  but  you  will  find 
deeds  very  much  in  my  way." 

He  led  the  way  up  the  steps,  taking  Lady  Molly's  hand 
with  more  of  old-fashioned  courtesy  than  was  used  by 
the  young  rakes  who  diced  and  fought  in  the  train  of 
Rupert  and  Maurice. 

"  Dame,  Dame,  where  art  thou,  Lizzy  ? "  he  called 
out  as  soon  as  he  was  within  the  hall,  and  out  from 
the  parlour  came  Dame  Elizabeth  Cromwell,  always 
pleasantly  maternal.  She  had  hardly  welcomed  Molly 
when  a  rush  from  above,  a  pounding  of  footsteps  which 
took  the  ancient  staircase  six  at  a  time,  announced  a  new 
arrival. 

"  My  wretches !  "  said  Cromwell,  with  a  wave  of  his 


148  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

hand  by  way  of  introduction,  "  Bridget,  Bess,  Mary,  and 
Baby — I  am  astonished  at  your  behaviour.  Take  ex- 
ample by  your  mother,  you  never  saw  her  sHde  down 
the  banisters." 

"  No,"  answered  pert  Bess  Cromwell,  "  but  grand- 
mother says  she  did  right  from  the  top  to  the  bottom 
without  once  touching,  which  not  even  the  boys  can  do, 
and  the  mark  across  the  bridge  of  her  nose  comes  from 
falling  into  the  staircase  well  and  cutting  herself  on  the 
tin  mug  she  was  carrying." 

"  That  will  do,  Bess.  My  dear  heart,  I  leave  our 
guest  to  your  care.  She  has  had  a  long  journey  and  needs 
rest.  I  have  some  business  to  transact  with  this  gentle- 
man— so  send  Harry  to  the  ofifice  immediately.  I  know 
he  is  in  his  room.  This  way.  Captain  Ludlow.  Dismiss 
your  troop.  We  may  be  some  time  detained.  Lady 
Mary,  my  best  salutations  !  " 

"  A  wonderful  man,"  thought  Hal.  "  He  never  men- 
tioned a  word  about  levying  war  and  receiving  raiders. 
Yet  if  she  had  had  a  brother  he  would  have  been  swing- 
ing by  this  time  from  the  joists  of  the  Tithe  Barn. 
Colonel  Cromwell  does  not  jest  with  such  things  as  the 
succour  and  entertainment  of  enemies  within  the  seven 
Associated  Counties." 

Harry  Cromwell  came  hurrying  in,  his  boyish  face 
still  bright  with  the  towel  friction,  and  his  hair  sleek  and 
undried. 

"  Take  a  note,  Harry,"  commanded  his  father,  "  I 
shall  have  something  to  report  to  the  war  commission, 
and  still  more  and  better  news  to  give  my  Lord  Woodham 
Walter  than  he  has  been  looking  for." 

After  he  had  heard  Hal's  story  he  sat  silent  awhile, 
thinking  deeply. 

"  You  are  the  better  soldier  than  I,  Captain,"  he  said, 
"  you  have  come  back  having  done  your  commission 
without  the  loss  of  a  man.  But  we  also  have  shown  our 
mettle.    We  caught  the  Candishers  as  they  were  making 


THE  LEAGUER  OF  TRUMPINGTON     149 

off  and  rode  them  down  man  to  man.  They  had  barely 
time  to  fire  their  huts  before  we  were  upon  them.  But 
we  lost  four  good  men,  and  many  wounded." 

Harry  Cromwell  broke  in. 

"  But  the  Lincoln  men  who  have  not  our  model  and 
drill  fled  by  companies  and  Newcastle's  horse  rode  them 
down.  Then  my  father  with  three  troops  only  charged 
the  rear  of  the  pursuit,  drove  the  enemy  down  the  hill, 
and  broke  to  pieces  the  reserve  when  Captain-Lieutenant 
Berry  killed  Charles  Cavendish  with  a  thrust  in  the  short 
ribs." 

"  I  would  that  I  had  been  there,"  mourned  Hal,  with  a 
sigh  of  regret. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Cromwell,  "  you  young  men  think 
there  is  nothing  in  making  war  beyond  charging  the 
enemy.  I  tell  you,  sir,  you  did  as  much  good  by  obeying 
orders.  The  fine  gentlemen  at  the  Towers  will  soon 
scatter,  or  if  old  Septimus  Hepburn  holds  a  few  together 
behind  his  Dutch  dykes,  we  will  send  down  a  score  of 
my  Lord  Fairfax's  loud-tongued  persuaders  to  talk  with 
him." 

'  "  I  would  that  I  were  at  the  taking — I  have  several 
men  who  know  the  country  well." 

"  I  daresay,  Captain  Hal,"  said  Cromwell  drily,  "  but 
I  have  other  work  for  you  to  do.  We  were  a  little  too 
closely  pinched  with  only  six  squadrons.  The  sight  of 
Hog  Lane  and  its  Captain  on  my  right  flank  would  have 
been  blithe  and  profitable  to  me  as  we  put  our  horses 
to  the  pace  down  the  slope." 


XVI 
A  MIDNIGHT  SUMMONS 

COLONEL  CROMWELL  heard  Hal's  narrative 
with  an  attention  at  once  serene  and  balanced. 
The  house  of  Danbury  Towers,  deprived  of  its 
figure-head,  would  give  no  more  anxiety.  The  gay  young 
sparks  would  ride  ofif  Oxford-wards.  The  Brown 
October  Squires  would  think  that  they  had  done  enough, 
and  so  not  unthankfully  take  their  ways  back  to  their 
halls  and  granges  in  Norfolk.  In  short,  the  defence 
would  fall  to  pieces.  And  if  not — why,  so  much  the 
worse  for  those  who  should  remain.  Most  important  of 
all,  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter  would  be  spared  any 
painful  family  scandal. 

Oliver  bent  his  brows  suddenly  upon  his  young  cap- 
tains. "  Now,  Harry,  and  you,  Hal  Ludlow — remember, 
I  will  have  no  shaking  of  lovelocks  and  twirling  of 
moustaches  among  my  officers  on  account  of  the  lady." 

"No  fear,  father,"  said  his  son,  laughing;  "we  all 
know  she  is  Hal  Ludlow's  prize — legal  capture,  cut  out 
fairly  under  the  guns  of  the  enemy !  " 

"  I  have  seen  occasions,  Harry,  when  you  were  not 
quite  so  wise.  But  remember  what  I  say,  I  will  have  no 
black  blood  or  promiscuous  brawling  in  my  camp.  Your 
swords  are  to  be  exercised  upon  the  skullcaps  of  the 
enemy,  and  if  I  catch  one  of  you  vapouring  and  pom- 
posing  for  any  cause  whatever,  he  shall  be  expelled  my 
command  so  quickly,  that  he  shall  not  know  in  what 
direction  he  is  travelling!  Let  this  be  known,  you  two 
Hals — warn  the  lieutenants  as  well,  that  if  they  quarrel 
with  anybody  it  shall  be  with  me." 

150 


A  MIDNIGHT  SUMMONS  151 

"  I  assure  you,  sir,"  said  Harry  Cromwell,  "  there 
is  not  the  least  intention "    His  father  cut  him  short. 

"  So  much  the  better,  son  Harry,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
understood — see  to  it  that  I  am  obeyed." 

When  he  was  gone  and  the  young  men  were  left  alone 
they  looked  at  each  other  at  first  soberly  but,  after  a 
little,  smilingly.  Then  Hal  Ludlow  took  Harry  Cromwell 
by  the  arm  and  they  strolled  up  and  down  the  wide 
emptiness  of  the  Tithe  House  yard  as  they  had  been  wont 
to  do  in  the  school  playing  fields.  Perhaps  the  thought 
of  the  open  windows  of  the  Tithe  House  parlours  and 
bedrooms  was  not  quite  absent  from  the  minds  of  these 
two  young  Puritans — Puritans  indeed,  but  young  men 
withal  and  of  as  gallant  a  spirit  as  any  Danby  or  Stanley 
in  all  the  King's  muster. 

Since  Hal  Ludlow  had  been  made  a  captain  like  him- 
self, Harry  Cromwell  had  regained  all  his  old  loyalty  to 
their  ancient  friendship.  It  is  difficult  to  exercise  due 
military  discipline  over  a  comrade  who  a  few  months 
before  cheerfully  rubbed  your  nose  in  the  mud !  Harry 
Cromwell  was  not  in  the  least  jealous  of  Hal  Ludlow. 
On  the  contrary,  it  was  natural  to  resume  allegiance 
to  one  who  had  always  been  his  mentor  and  model,  who 
was  two  years  older  than  himself,  and  who  in  spite  of 
"  petticoating  "  and  absenting  himself  without  leave  was 
still  his  oldest  and  dearest  friend. 

What  they  talked  about  is  no  great  matter.  After  an 
hour  or  two  they  could  not  have  told  themselves.  They 
were,  indeed,  both  of  them  marking  time  and  waiting  for 
the  call  to  supper. 

But  they  were  disappointed,  neither  Lady  Molly  nor 
Bess  Cromwell  appeared,  and  the  good  motherly  Dame, 
after  she  had  served  her  end  of  the  table,  heaped  a  silver 
tray  and  carried  it  upstairs  with  her  own  hands.  It  was 
clear  that  the  Lady  Molly  had  been  packed  off  to  bed, 
and  that  there  she  was  being  duly  "  mothered  "  by  a 
woman  of  much  experience.     Which  would  be  a  thing 


152  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

new  and  strange  to  the  girl  reared  without  family  re- 
straint, except  that  of  going  occasionally  to  her  father  to 
ask  for  money. 

Supper  was  eaten  in  unwonted  silence.  The  head  of 
the  house,  after  a  brief  word  of  greeting,  sat  moodily 
abstracted  at  the  table-head.  Good  Dame  Cromwell,  in- 
deed, bustled  out  and  in.  But  Bridget,  unbacked  by  her 
lively  sister,  kept  a  discreet  silence,  and  the  two  young 
men  seated  side  by  side  spoke  low  one  to  the  other. 

When  Hal  went  forth  into  the  night  with  Oliver's 
voice,  lately  uplifted  in  family  devotion,  still  in  his  ears, 
he  remarked,  high  above  the  court  of  the  Tithe  House, 
two  windows  glowing  athwart  the  darkness.  Shadows 
moved  across  and  across,  and  through  an  open  casement 
trilled  a  burst  of  gay  laughter.  Hal  smiled  sympatheti- 
cally. He  wished  he  had  been  there  to  join  the  mirth. 
Very  likely  they  were  laughing  at  him.  But  if  so,  it  made 
no  matter  to  Hal  Ludlow,  He  was  troubled  with  none 
of  that  super-sensitiveness  which  cannot  bear  to  be 
laughed  at.  He  knew  that  men  did  not  laugh  at  him,  and 
had  a  shrewd  idea  that  in  such  matters  women  are  much 
influenced  by  men's  opinion. 

He  strolled  slowly  towards  the  Intendance,  to  which 
were  consigned  for  the  night  the  horses  and  cavaliers  of 
the  Hog  Lane  Troop.  Hal  Ludlow  was  not  so  absorb- 
ingly in  love  with  Lady  Molly  that  he  could  think  of 
nothing  else.  He  had  known  her  all  his  life,  and  in  a 
certain  way  had  always  been  in  love  with  her — not  to  the 
extent  of  telling  her  so  in  set  phrases,  but  only  to  that  of 
immediate  belligerence  and  personal  attack  upon  any  of 
his  own  sex  who  seemed  inclined  to  infringe  his  rights  of 
property. 

So  it  was  rather  of  the  coming  campaign  in  Lincoln- 
shire that  he  was  thinking,  of  riding  side  by  side  with  his 
old  friends  of  the  Slepe  Troop,  of  the  council  of  the  Cap- 
tains where  now  he  would  have  a  place,  and  of  the 
thousand  Ironsides  coming  down  upon  the  enemy  swift 


A  MIDNIGHT  SUMMONS  153 

and  resistless — with  the  great  Cromwellian  shout,  "  The 
Sword  of  the  Lord !  "  clearing  the  way  before  them. 

He  became  conscious  of  something  darker  than  the 
night  which  flitted  in  front,  seen  so  vaguely  that  had  he 
not  been  a  man  well  armed  and  fearless  by  nature,  he 
might  have  suspected  some  lurking  assassin. 

But  when  he  came  out  into  the  open  square  opposite 
to  his  father's  official  residence,  he  saw  that  the  figure  was 
that  of  the  gipsy  girl  who  had  so  strangely  crossed  his 
path  more  than  once. 

"  Neiia — Neiia  la  Fain,"  he  called  out,  and  she  an- 
swered to  her  name  as  a  dog  to  its  master. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked  of  her  kindly,  for  he 
felt  that  the  girl  instinctively  shrank  from  his  eye.  So  as 
his  manner  was  with  women  when  he  wished  them  to 
obey,  he  laid  his  strong  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and 
wheeled  her  directly  in  front  of  him.  His  motto  was, 
"  For  women  older  than  yourself,  all  the  forms  and  rever- 
ences, but  as  for  the  girls,  lead  them  tambours  hattants 
— drums  beating  and  colours  flying."  Which  was  very 
well  for  Captain  Hal  Ludlow  in  his  dealings  with  his 
ancient  playmate,  Molly  Woodham,  but  he  had  yet  to 
learn  that  his  experience  with  one  did  not  suffice  for  a 
knowledge  of  all.  But  as  yet  Master  Hal  was  young, 
forceful,  and  remarkably  arrogant  in  his  dealings  with 
women.  And  there  is  no  need  to  hide  the  fact  that 
his  theory,  such  as  it  was,  had  served  him  well  so 
far. 

Nefia  la  Fain  trembled  under  the  weight  of  his  hand. 
She  felt  the  warmth  of  his  fingers  through  her  thin  dress. 

"  Captain,"  she  said,  "  I  would  not  have  troubled  you 
for  myself,  but  Jacques  the  Wassailer  lies  dying  on  the 
Isle  Jatte  for  want  of  a  doctor,  and  the  first  I  went  to 
pushed  me  from  his  door,  cursing  my  impudence  and 
threatening  me  with  the  watch." 

"  Ah,  who  was  he  ? "  demanded  Hal,  kindling  not  a 
little.    The  maid  was  as  nothing  under  his  hand  and  her 


154  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

eyes  shone  darkly.  She  seemed  so  helpless  that  she 
appealed  to  hun,  but  the  next  words  disabused  him. 

"  I  should  have  put  my  knife  into  him  if  he  had  been 
worth  the  trouble,  but  then  I  might  have  seen  the  inside 
of  the  guardhouse  in  earnest,  and  the  Wassailer  would 
die  without  a  physician.  So  I  thought  of  you — that  you 
would  surely  know  someone.  There  is  a  medicine — 
Jacques  says,  but  it  is  very  precious,  but  I  have  brought 
six  golden  plovers  and  half  a  Jacobus  in  gold  to  pay 
for  it." 

Hal  Ludlow  knew  the  Isle  Jatte.  He  had  lain  long 
nights  in  a  ducking  boat  on  its  desolate  borders  and 
hidden  himself  to  watch  decoys  along  its  winding  creeks. 
It  was  a  long  road  and  to  come  and  go  would  take  the 
better  part  of  the  night.  There  was  no  one  whom  he 
could  ask  except — why,  of  course,  their  second  regi- 
mental surgeon,  Roy  Lorraine,  just  returned  from  his 
laureation  at  the  Paris  school  of  medicine.  Lorraine 
lodged  in  the  Cathedral  Close,  and  thither,  with  a  brief 
summons  to  the  girl  to  follow  him  discreetly,  Hal  betook 
himself. 

Go?  Of  course  he  would  go  if  the  girl  could  find  the 
way.  What  did  Hal  Ludlow  take  him  for?  He  was  a 
surgeon,  not  an  old  wife. 

And  Lorraine  fired  questions  at  the  girl  from  his 
window  as  she  stood  below  in  the  darkness,  dressing  him- 
self and  gathering  information  all  the  time.  Jacques 
Wassailer  was  hot — yes,  very  hot,  and  shook.  ("  Of 
course  he  would  shake  living  on  Isle  Jatte !  ")  But  it  was 
not  just  chills  or  ague — something  worse.  Oh,  his  skin 
was  the  colour  of  orange  peel,  was  it?  And,  of  course, 
the  medicine  he  wanted  was  Jesuit's  bark  from  Peru. 
He  had  not  much  of  that.  It  cost  dear,  but  Hal  would 
go  and  rout  out  Samuel  Tilling,  the  herbalist.  He  had 
always  a  great  supply,  and  though  he  was  a  noisome 
tick,  he  would  give  credit  to  the  son  of  the  Commissioner 
of  Parliament.    Lorraine  himself  had  not  credit  for  three 


A  MIDNIGHT  SUMMONS  166 

clipped  farthings!  How  should  he,  on  a  bare  shilling  a 
day,  and  that  mostly  unpaid? 

So  Hal  went  off  well  pleased  through  the  silent  streets. 
Ely  in  the  moonless  night  was  like  an  enchanted  city, 
not  a  heel  on  the  pavements,  not  a  light  in  a  window,  but 
from  the  end  of  one  alley  which  looked  upon  the  open 
country,  far  out  on  the  marsh  the  ghostly  flicker  of  some 
Will-o'-the-Wisp.  The  houses  with  their  upshooting 
gables  and  beehive-topped  staircases,  the  shutters 
tightly  closed  against  the  night  air,  took  strange  forms 
overhead,  enormous  and  sepulchral,  like  a  town  stricken 
dead  in  a  moment  by  some  black  death. 

Hal,  who  had  a  reminiscence  of  Shakespeare  upon  him, 
called  loudly,  "  Ho,  apothecary !  "  And  the  sound  of  his 
voice  came  back  sharply  from  the  walls  of  the  dark 
houses  behind.  Through  the  gap  of  a  window-shutter 
protruded  the  wavering  bell-mouth  of  a  ducking  gun. 

"  Go  away  from  there,  brawling  play-actors,"  called 
out  the  man  of  drugs  from  his  chamber-window. 
"  Shake  not  my  door,  neither  rattle  the  rasping-pin,  or  a 
charge  of  good  shot  shall  you  have." 

"  Come  down,  you  old  thief,"  cried  Hal;  "  think  shame 
of  yourself,  Samuel,  to  lie  like  that.  Your  old  blunder- 
buss has  not  smelt  powder  for  forty  years." 

"  I  should  loiow  that  voice,  my  young  friend,"  creaked 
the  voice  above ;  "  if  you  be  a  young  gallant  seeking  his 
mercurial  potion  at  this  hour,  I  would  have  you  know 
that  I  charge  double  after  eleven  of  the  clock " 

"  Let  me  but  get  my  fingers  about  your  wizened 
thrapple,  old  weasel  of  the  dyke,  serpent's  egg,  frog's 
spawn,  I'll  give  you  something  worse  than  a  filthy  potion. 
I  am  Captain  Harry  Ludlow,  the  Commissioner's  son,  and 
if  you  are  not  down  in  one  minute  I  swear  by  my  sword- 
hilt  I  will  have  you  set  in  the  stocks  and  pelted  by  the 
mob!" 

"  I  come — I  come !  " 

And  apothecary  Samuel  Tilling  of  Dorcas  Alley  came 


156  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

with  such  haste  that  his  greasy  flannel  dressing-gown 
was  closed  only  by  the  waist-cord,  and  his  ropy,  twisted 
throat,  waggling  beard,  and  stork's  legs  flitted  and  shifted 
in  the  light  of  the  unsteady  lantern  which  he  held  above 
his  head  that  he  might  see  the  features  of  his  visitor. 

"  The  Jesuit's  bark,  Captain,"  he  wheezed ;  "  pray 
come  inside — that  is  very  rare  and  very  precious,  as 
doubtless  your  Honour  knows.  But  I  ask  nothing  better 
than  your  Honour's  signature — a  note  of  hand  as  it  were 
— fifty  silver  pieces  will  buy  a  small  quantity,  on  account 
of  its  rarity,  but  you  shall  have  it,  Captain,  because  of 
the  respect  I  owe  to  you,  and  to  your  most  worthy 
father." 

"  Keep  the  rest  of  your  words,  Father  Samuel,  as  one 
might  say  vulgarly,  for  the  cooling  of  your  porridge.  I 
shall  pay  army  prices  in  cash  for  the  bark.  Pa)anaster 
Sam  Squire  shall  tax  the  amount  and  if  it  be  charged  too 
high,  I  promise  you  a  sore  back  and  a  promenade  at  the 
cart  tail  through  the  town." 

The  bark,  with  a  double  handful  added  by  Hal  for 
luck,  was  weighed  and  carefully  done  into  a  package  for 
transport,  and  the  apothecary  in  his  perilous  dressing- 
gown  of -dirty  yellow  accompanied  them  to  the  door, 
where  he  stood  bowing  over  his  smoky  lantern.  The 
night  air  tasted  keen  and  sweet  as  they  emerged  from 
the  musty  atmosphere  of  powdered  spices  and  desiccated 
bitumen  which  pervaded  the  apothecary's  den. 

Roy  Lorraine  was  waiting  for  them  at  the  door. 

"  You  have  the  bark — how  much  ? — why,  you  must 
have  robbed  the  old  man.  How  disgraceful,  but  when 
were  soldiers  other  than  plunderers  ?  " 

"  Come  on,  man,"  said  Hal,  "  since  when  have  Scots- 
men and  Scots  doctors  been  so  particular?  We  must 
tramp  to  the  boat." 

Neiia  had  at  first  her  hand  firmly  clasped  about  Hal's 
fingers,  and  seemed  to  drag  him  after  her,  but  as  soon  as 
she  had  made  quite  sure  that  both  men  were  coming,  she 


A  MIDNIGHT  SUMMONS  157 

loosened  her  grasp  and  sped  ahead  into  the  rank  grass  of 
the  water  meadows.  Her  well-accustomed  feet  made  no 
sound,  but  the  two  men  tramped  like  bullocks,  and  in  so 
doing  awakened  the  creatures  of  the  fen.  A  great  heron 
flapped  clumsily  up,  from  where  he  had  been  standing 
sentinel  on  one  leg,  a  huddled  and  consumptive  shadow 
against  the  grey  water.  Goat-suckers  smote  their  great 
white  wings  together  as  they  struck  into  the  alder  bushes 
where  the  pale  fat  moths  congregate.  Lapwings  started 
up  at  the  sound  of  footsteps  and  circled  clamourously. 
The  peewit  sleeps  more  lightly  than  any  other  fen  bird 
and  is  more  suspicious  and  persistent.  It  startles  all  the 
others  and  sets  them  running.  A  hare  rushed  by  and  then 
another,  and  the  white  scuts  of  the  rabbit  lolloped  by 
dozens  into  the  dusk  and  are  lost  even  before  they  have 
time  to  pass.  The  sedge  warbler  begins  his  imitations — 
the  blackbird's  flute  followed  by  the  triple  triumph  of 
the  thrush's  carol,  "  Hear  me — hear  me!  Hear!  Hear! 
Hear !  "  Then  came  the  robin,  the  chaffinch,  and  the 
tit,  all  marvellously  imitated,  but  all  the  work  of  one 
small  mimic  on  the  willow  branch,  the  mocking  bird  of 
the  fens. 

The  night  about  them  was  far  less  silent  than  in  the 
sleeping  city.  In  the  water  meadow  ahead  of  them 
towards  the  Isle  Jatte  a  crake  told  its  name  monotonously, 
and  from  among  the  bent  grass,  the  white  prickles,  and 
the  short  buU's-wool  heath,  came  the  dry  whirr  of  the 
grasshopper  warbler.  Halt!  That  rustle  among  the 
withies  may  be  an  adder  or  a  concealed  "  Candisher  " 
making  his  way  towards  the  marsh  smugglers  from  whom 
he  hopes  to  beg  or  buy  a  passage  to  Holland.  Three 
heads  peered  eagerly  between  the  tail  bullrushes,  thick 
as  a  cranebrake.  Something  long  and  sinuous  oared  its 
way  through  the  black  water.  The  snake-like  head 
was  that  of  an  otter,  and  the  fish  warned  too  late,  fled  to 
their  pool  depths  with  the  loss  of  the  plumpest  patriarch 
of  their  number. 


158  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Twenty  yards  farther  on,  in  a  little  covert  of  broom 
cunningly  arranged,  Nena  la  Fain  showed  them  the  boat. 
The  doctor  crouched  in  the  stern,  but  Hal  took  an  oar 
along  with  the  girl.    He  placed  himself  under  her  orders. 

"  Straight  out  till  we  reach  Stand-ground  Creek,"  she 
said,  speaking  low  as  if  still  among  enemies ;  "  we  can 
pole  all  the  way.  The  pass  is  narrow,  but  then  we  can 
put  about  and  row  to  Isle  Jatte.  We  shall  be  in  time  for 
the  tide.  It  comes  to  the  flood  about  one  o'clock  and 
the  geese  float  up  and  guzzle  among  the  grass  on  the  edge 
of  the  flat.  Then  I  should  have  something  for  the  doctor 
to  carry  home." 

"  Do  not  trouble  about  the  doctor — he  is  my  friend 
and  therefore  yours !  "  said  Hal,  fending  off  the  scrubbly 
bushes  of  the  canal  with  the  butt  of  his  oar.  Nena  was 
silent.  It  was  pleasant  thus  to  be  assured  of  his  friend- 
ship, yet  in  his  voice  her  quick  ear  told  her  there  was 
something  lacking. 

They  turned  into  Stand-ground  Creek  from  which  the 
"  broad  "  stretches  away  clear  to  the  low  brushwood  of 
the  Isle  Jatte.  The  dry  peaty  ridges  crowned  with  pine 
were  over  now — lost  in  the  night.  Only  the  water,  the 
flowing  tide,  and  the  salt  marshes  on  either  hand  made  a 
morose  and  livid  landscape  which  stretched  to  the 
horizon. 

Neiia  rounded  the  spits  of  ooze  and  "  slub "  with 
practised  ease.  The  sea  grass,  loved  of  fish,  tickled  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  as  they  slid  over  the  swampy  bars. 
Away  on  the  far  side  of  Grande  Island  a  solitary  light 
could  be  seen — the  open  door  of  Old  Man  Peter's  hut, 
where  doubtless  he  would  be  making  ready  for  the 
morning's  catch.  He  was,  as  Nena  said,  their  nearest 
and,  indeed,  their  only  neighbour,  but  Peter  was  a 
roisterous  man  and  a  great  breeder  of  game  cocks  in  the 
days  before  the  coming  of  the  saints.  Now,  however,  he 
had  little  to  do  except  fish  the  water  and  bang  off  his  gun 
at  the  ducks  in  the  pools.     Though  they  did  say  that 


A  MIDNIGHT  SUMMONS  159 

sometimes  he  would  call  a  main,  and  fight  his  red  bantam 
rooster  against  the  grey,  all  alone  on  the  isle,  with  no  one 
to  look  on  the  night  but  himself — whereby  he  swore  that 
he  had  as  great  pleasure  as  when  he  got  fifty  pieces  from 
the  gentlemen  of  the  cock-pit  for  the  exhibition. 

Before  them  stretched  the  water  dead  under  the  night 
stillness,  but  as  the  salt  tide  began  to  push  up  the  scum, 
growing  living  again  with  the  breath  which  the  great  out- 
side sea  breathed  into  it,  the  sea  of  breakers,  of  green 
waves  shouldering  each  other,  and  the  white  wings  of 
gulls.  Here  they  were  among  brackish  lagoons.  Dead 
Men's  Lanterns  pulsed  fitfully  incandescent  on  either 
hand,  and  the  doctor  snififed  and  grumbled,  "  We  shall 
have  fever  if  we  do  not  take  care.  Give  me  some  of  the 
bitter  bark  and  take  some  on  your  tongue  yourself." 

"  A  dose  of  Hollands  will  stand  you  in  better  stead," 
said  Hal,  producing  the  silver  flask  which  his  father  had 
given  him.  So  they  drank  one  after  the  other  to  wash 
down  the  bitter  drug.  Nefia,  chafing  at  the  delay,  re- 
fused both  and  continued  to  scull  on  her  own  account. 

At  last  they  came  in  sight  of  the  Isle  Jatte — a  low 
purple  bar  of  denser  cloud  to  the  eastward. 

Presently  they  were  nearer.  The  brushwood  of  the 
isle  mounted  higher.  The  girl  told  Hal  to  bring  his  oar 
inboard.  She  stood  up  balancing  herself  lightly  in  the 
prow  and  swaying  from  side  to  side  as  she  paddled.  A 
little  jutting  pier  stole  alongside,  building  itself  up  out 
of  the  blacker  dark. 

"  The  Isle  Jatte ! "  said  the  girl,  holding  the  boat 
close  in  for  them  to  land.  She  took  the  doctor's  case 
and  led  the  way. 

And  as  they  followed  through  the  man-high  scrub  of 
willow  bush  and  bog  alder,  over  the  lagoon  came  to  their 
ears  the  distant  mellow  clamour  of  the  Cathedral  bells, 
striking  midnight. 


XVII 
BLIND  MAN'S  FERRY 

« yi       GALLOPING  pulse,  hot  dry  hands,  tongue  like 

/■\  smoked  beef,  and  chills  that  shake  the  house — 
what,  my  friend,  can  any  man  make  of  that  ?  " 

"Marsh  fever.  Doctor?"  said  the  Wassailer;  "no, 
Doctor,  I  have  had  marsh  fever  too  often  not  to  know 
that  when  it  comes — besides,  'tis  not  the  time  of  year, 
early  spring  and  late  autumn  I  get  the  shakes  as  regular 
as  seed  time  and  harvest.  But  the  March  winds  and  the 
ice  on  the  pools  drive  out  the  poison.  Neither  cold  nor 
heat  can  the  chills  abide,  but  this  is  worse  and  grips 
deeper,  Doctor.    I  doubt  it  be  my  call  from  a  far  land." 

"  Nonsense,  man,"  said  the  Scott,  "  we  will  have  you 
right  and  fit  again  as  fast  as  a  kitten  frisks.  My  friend 
Captain  Ludlow  of  the  Seventh  Troop  has  brought 
you  enough  of  the  precious  Jesuit's  Bark  all  the  way 
from  South  America  to  physic  a  sick  elephant.  Little 
demoiselle  here  will  see  that  you  take  it  regularly — mind, 
three  times  a  day,  and  oftener,  till  you  hear  your  ears 
buzzing  as  if  bluebottles  had  got  into  them.  That  and 
good  Hollands  will  see  you  through.    Hillo,  who  is  this?  " 

The  door  opened  and  two  men  came  in,  whereupon 
the  hermit  of  Isle  Jatte  turned  his  head  with  a  gesture 
of  involuntary  annoyance. 

"  Well,  Wassailer,"  said  the  cracked  voice  of  the 
smaller  man,  who  wore  a  kind  of  cloak  like  a  thatched 
umbrella  about  his  neck  and  throat,  "  I  came  over  to 
bring  you  a  bit  of  fish  just  fresh  out  of  the  net,  and  to 
present  my  friend — why,  where  is  he?" 

He  turned  about,  but  the  taller  man  had  slunk  back 

160 


BLIND  MAN'S  FERRY  161 

again  into  the  circle  of  the  night.  Old  Peter  went  to  the 
door  and  called,  but  his  voice  only  roused  the  wading 
birds  along  the  ragged  isle-edges.  They  rose  in  clouds 
and  circled  curiously  about  the  fowler's  hut.  Old  Man 
Peter,  the  fighting-cock  breeder  of  Grand  Isle,  came 
back  into  the  room  with  a  cracked  cackle  of  laughter. 

"  Can't  abear  the  military — them  as  is  in  authority, 
as  the  good  book  sez.  My  friend  was  frightened  by  your 
helmet  and  war-gear.  Captain.  He  has  had  the  mis- 
fortune, like  many  other  gentlemen,  not  to  be  quite  sure 
which  side  he  is  on  in  this  war,  which  naturally  makes 
him  careful.  But  he  will  come  again.  He  has  taken 
quite  a  fancy  to  your  little  maid.  He  has  noticed  her  at 
the  market  many  a  morning." 

"  Thank  you,  Peter,"  said  the  sick  man,  "  you  mean 
well.  But  your  ways  are  not  my  ways,  nor  those  of  your 
friends  those  of  my  little  maid.  I  will  thank  you  to  see 
that  she  is  left  alone." 

"  Aye,"  said  Hal  savagely,  "  and  you  had  better  take 
that  as  said  once  and  for  all,  Master  Cockfighter  of  Grande 
Isle.  I  am  Captain  Ludlow,  son  of  the  Parliament  Com- 
missioner, and  I  tell  you  plainly,  my  father  and  Colonel 
Cromwell  know  all  about  your  bog-trotting  shebeen  over 
there.  You  make  it  a  refuge  for  traitors,  sir,  and  we  are 
almost  at  the  end  of  our  patience." 

The  old  man  combed  his  mud-coloured  beard  ner- 
vously. "  There  is  some  error,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  go  and 
see  Colonel  Cromwell  this  very  day.  By  my  faith  of  an 
honest  man  who  earns  a  pittance  by  supplying  the 
forces  with  fish  and  fowl,  I  have  never  had  anyone  about 
my  place  unfriendly  to  the  Cause.  Of  course,  when  an 
odd  time  I  do  fight  a  main  of  birds,  many  gentlemen 
come  from  the  three  counties.  Can  I  ask  them  all  their 
politics  before  they  set  foot  in  my  pit?  I  would  soon 
get  a  quarter  yard  of  steel  through  me  if  I  did.  Come, 
sir,  be  reasonable." 

"  Ah,"  said  Hal,  with  his  most  insolent  expression. 


162  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Did  you  not  know  that  the  fighting  of  cocks  for  money 
was  against  the  statute  ?  " 

"  In  market  towns,  yes,  or  where  there  are  troops — on 
account  of  the  young  gentlemen  betting — but  not  on  the 
Isle  Grande.  But  why  should  you  not  come  and  see  for 
yourself.  You  have  the  figure  of  a  most  noble  young 
cocker.  I  know  a  gentleman  when  I  see  one.  We  have 
very  fine  company  at  the  Grande  Isle,  I  do  assure  you — 
why,  only  three  months  ago  we  had  Master  Dick  himself 
— such  a  fine  young  gentleman  with  a  skin  like  a  lady's 
and  his  handkerchief  scented  when  he  pulled  it  from  his 
ruffled  sleeve — it  was  like  scattering  violets  on  May  Day, 
so  sweet  it  were." 

A  sharp  pang  ran  through  Hal's  heart — fear  lest  he 
understood  only  too  well. 

"  What  Dick  ?  "  he  demanded  fiercely,  "  young  Dick 
Lucy  of  Charlcote  ?  " 

"  No,  then,  soft — ee — there,"  said  the  cocker,  "  no 
rough-riding  Candishers  among  my  gentlemen.  What 
Dick,  sez  you?  Why,  who  should  it  be  but  Master 
Crummle,  as  fine  a  young  spark  of  the  game  as  ever 
you  would  wish  to  see  twirling  a  double  gold  piece  on 
his  thumb  nail." 

"  Idle  Dick,  by  glory !  "  exclaimed  the  Scotsman,  "  ab- 
sent without  leave  from  my  Lord  Essex  and  his  regi- 
ment." 

"  Perhaps  not  without  his  mother's  leave,"  whispered 
Hal,  in  the  doctor's  ear.    "  I  must  frighten  this  fellow." 

And  he  turned  upon  Old  Peter,  who  having  launched 
his  arrow,  now  stood  with  a  smile  of  sycophantish 
triumph  at  the  corners  of  his  long  ill-scraped  upper 
lip. 

"  See  here,  fellow,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  military 
brusqueness,  "  if  you  want  to  be  hanged,  you  have  only 
to  let  that  come  to  the  ears  of  his  father.  I  give  you 
warning.  A  rope  you  shall  have,  my  man,  and  no 
questions  asked." 


BLIND  MAN'S  FERRY  163 

"  I  will  tell  nothing.  It  would  be  very  poor  advice  to 
my  pocket  to  tell  tales  of  any  gentlemen  who  come  to 
Isle  Grande  for  a  little  innocent  diversion.  But  Master 
Dick  made  no  secret  of  his  coming.  There  were  a  hun- 
dred gentlemen  on  Grand  Isle,  besides  collegians.  Any 
of  their  tongues  might  wag,  and  am  I  to  be  held  re- 
sponsible?    Ha,  listen!" 

He  stole  to  the  door  and  stood  with  his  hand  behind 
his  ear.  Then  an  expression  of  triumph  twitched  his 
lips  and  his  great  goat's  beard  wagged  with  excitement. 
He  beckoned  feverishly  with  the  right  hand.  Hal 
stepped  to  the  door  and  listened.  The  cool  purple  dark- 
ness which  circled  them  told  the  eye  nothing.  But  from 
far  away,  every  note  distinct,  came  the  bugle-call  from 
the  distant  town — first  the  reveille  and  then,  immediately 
on  the  back  of  that,  the  "  Boot  and  Saddle."  Every  note 
was  distinct,  but  diminished  to  the  daintiest  fairy  echo, 
a  bugle  blown  to  summon  True  Thomas  by  the  trum- 
peters of  the  elfin  Queen. 

"  If  that  be  not  Levi  Allister,  music  to  the  Slepe  Troop, 
may  I  never  touch  feather  or  fin  more!  " 

It  came  again,  each  note  ringing  light,  clear,  and 
delicate,  but  to  the  ear  of  Hal  Ludlow  distinct  as  fate 
knocking  at  the  door.  Then  with  a  "  Hallali  "  of  joyous 
sound,  the  bugles  of  the  other  troops  took  up  the  sum- 
mons.   It  was  a  general  muster  and  he  not  there ! 

Pulses  beat  in  his  head  and  he  would  have  run  for  the 
shore,  but  that  he  knew  himself  upon  an  isle  girt  about 
by  lagoons. 

"  The  alarm  can  only  be  because  of  some  foray  in  the 
north,"  said  the  doctor,  who  had  been  thinking  the 
matter  over;  "  perhaps  you  can  yet  overtake  them." 

"  They    must    cross    behind     Blind     Man's     Ferry," 
said  the  girl ;  "  a  guard  has  been  posted  there  watch- 
ing the  bridge  of  boats  ever  since  the  return  from  Gains- 
borough." 
f   "  You  may  be  right,"  groaned  Hal,  "  but  what  good 


164?  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSmES 

can  that  do  me?  I  shall  miss  my  troop.  They  must 
ride  without  me — and  then  all  is  over  with  my  Captaincy." 

The  girl  became  at  once  alert  and  vivid  with  life. 

"  It  is  my  fault,"  she  cried,  "  but  we  shall  save  you 
yet.  Come  with  me  and  we  will  cut  the  marsh  at  the 
Ferry.  Wolfenden  Creek  leads  to  Blind  Man's  crossing 
where  is  the  bridge  of  boats.  The  flood  is  running  a 
good  five  miles  an  hour,  besides  what  we  can  make  by 
pulling.    We  shall  have  the  start  of  them.    Come !  " 

And  she  pulled  at  his  sleeve  almost  fiercely. 

"  Go,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  shall  wait  till  your  boat 
comes  back.  It  does  not  matter  for  me,  Chief  Surgeon 
Baker  will  be  with  the  troops,  and  Colonel  Cromwell 
never  takes  more  than  one  man  when  he  makes  a 
dash." 

He  came  to  the  door  with  Hal  and  walked  a  few  steps 
with  him,  so  as  to  be  out  of  earshot. 

"  I  saw  the  fellow  who  slunk  away  so  quickly.  He  was 
wearing  your  troop's  coat  and  badge.  I  wager  he  is  the 
man  who  sent  the  bullet  at  your  head.  If  you  come  up 
with  your  Hog  Laners  get  your  senior  corporal  to  call 
the  roll.    Good  night  and  good  luck." 

Hal  was  soon  in  the  boat.  After  the  bright  light  of 
the  hut,  the  blackness  seemed  denser,  but  Neha  la  Fain 
never  hesitated  a  moment.  She  launched  herself  into  a 
maze  of  lanes  and  cross-ways  till  she  reached  a  wider 
creek  through  which  the  salt  water  from  the  sea  was 
rushing  with  a  soft  continuous  rustle  of  reeds  and  whis- 
pering benty  grass. 

"  Wolfenden  Creek,"  the  girl  explained,  handing  him 
a  pair  of  sculls.  "  Row — I  will  keep  her  head  right." 
Which  she  did  with  a  steering  oar  over  the  stern.  She 
did  not  speak  again  but  stood  alert  and  easy,  leaning  her 
weight  on  her  oar  and  taking  the  boat  where  she  wished 
it  to  go  in  spite  of  the  imperious  pour  of  water.  Land- 
marks were  low  and  to  Hal's  untrained  eye  almost 
invisible.     Sometimes  they  shaved  the  bank  so  closely 


BLIND  ]VIAN'S  FERRY  165 

that  a  little  shoot  of  broom  flicked  his  cheek,  dropped  a 
colourless  petal  or  two,  and  then  dropped  sharply  back 
like  an  unbent  bow. 

The  higher  they  went  the  more  rapid  seemed  the 
current,  till  presently  they  were  whirling  along.  The 
bushes  on  the  creek's  edge  fled  behind  as  trees  and 
hedges  do  during  a  midnight  gallop.  Hal's  oars  would 
hardly  bite  so  swift  was  the  current,  till  finally  he  drew 
them  in  lest  one  or  other  should  tangle  the  boat  or  be 
snapped  off  in  the  impetuous  rush  of  the  tide.  But  ex- 
cept for  an  occasional  eddy,  where  the  mud  and  scum 
boiled  up  in  oily  bubbles  and  chattered  under  the  keel  so 
that  she  danced  dangerously,  the  boat  went  smoothly 
enough. 

"  Steady  there !  Back  water  with  your  left — hard — 
hard !  " 

Hal  obeyed  the  order  just  in  time  to  escape  shipwreck 
on  a  long  dark  embankment  which  crossed  the  fairway 
in  front  of  them.  Something  told  him  that  they  were  at 
Blind  Man's  Ferry  and  that  this  was  no  other  than 
Colonel  Cromwell's  bridge  of  boats  laid  down  after  Gains- 
borough Fight. 

The  boat  swerved  aside  easily  and  lightly,  glided  behind 
a  brow  of  turf  and  brought  up  in  a  little  backwater. 
Nena  put  aside  the  reeds,  drew  the  boat  to  the  verge,  and 
fastened  her  to  the  stiff  roots  of  the  heath  which  over- 
spread the  place. 

The  air  smelt  different  here,  lighter,  stronger,  less  salt. 
The  wolds  were  already  making  themselves  felt.  Neiia 
la  Fain  gave  her  hand  to  her  passenger,  and  in  a  moment 
they  found  themselves  among  the  birch  copse  and  strag- 
gling pines  marking  the  beginning  of  the  sand  stretches 
which  lie  between  the  fen  and  the  wolds. 

They  were  at  the  bridge  and  Hal  was  trying  to  make 
out  by  the  appearance  of  the  road  whether  the  regiment 
had  already  passed.  But  it  was  dark  and,  even  if  he 
had  seen  all  that  there  was  to  see,  the  constant  passage 


166  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

of  troops  had  worn  the  pathway  into  mere  trampled 
sand. 

Nena  discovered  a  reason  for  better  hope,  however. 
From  a  Httle  knoll  of  dwarf  pine  by  the  waterside  they 
could  look  down  upon  the  bridge.  At  either  end  a  couple 
of  torches  flared  murkily,  while  sentinels  moved  back 
and  forward  guarding  the  passage,  their  helmets  and 
breastplates  glittering  in  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  flaming 
pine  knots. 

No,  the  troops  were  yet  on  their  way.  He  was  in  time, 
and  Hal  was  thanking  God  when  a  fear  came  upon  him, 
gripping  his  heart,  that  they  might  be  riding  south  to 
attack  Danbury  Towers.  But  after  all  he  decided  that 
this  was  unlikely.  For  the  Colonel  would  certainly  have 
mentioned  the  matter  to  him,  seeing  that  he  had  just 
come  thence.  It  must  be  a  sudden  alarm,  a  messenger 
riding  in  through  the  midnight,  with  some  tale  of  a  terri- 
fied country-side,  of  smoking  and  roofless  villages. 

The  night  lay  black  and  still  from  horizon  to  horizon. 
Down  by  the  bridge,  however,  there  was  a  steady  to  and 
fro,  a  clink  of  accoutrements,  and  once  on  the  other  side 
of  the  creek  a  horse  neighed. 

But  presently  Nefia,  who  till  now  had  been  silent, 
grasped  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"  I  hear  them  coming,"  she  whispered  close  to  his 
ear,  "  then  you  will  not  be  angry  with  me.  I  can  go  back 
happy  to  nurse  the  Wassailer  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  angry,  Nefia ;  how  should  I  be  angry  for 
that  which  you  could  not  help  ?  " 

"  Listen — listen,"  she  cried,  "  your  head  close  to  the 
ground."  And  then  Hal  became  conscious  that  the 
unstable  earth  of  the  fen  was  all  tremulous,  throbbing 
and  humming  like  a  smitten  harp-string.  Yes,  they  were 
coming.  The  lights  multiplied  at  the  bridge  end. 
Presently  the  hoofs  of  the  first  horses  resounded  hollow 
on  the  planking.  Then  came  a  pause,  the  first  troop  had 
passed   over   in    safety.      Rumble — rumble — these    were 


BLIND  MAN'S  FERRY  167 

the  field-pieces  which  were  always  taken  when  the 
brigade  moved  out  for  more  than  forty-eight  hours.  It 
was  then  to  be  an  expedition  of  some  duration.  Again 
the  tramp  of  troop  horses  and  soon  the  Ironsides  (with 
OHver  at  their  head,  a  majestic  figure  cut  in  blackness) 
were  defiling  past. 

First  came  the  Slepe  Troop,  which  on  account  of  its 
early  enrolment  had  the  right  to  that  position,  then  the 
St.  Neot's  men,  which  ought  to  have  been  Idle  Dick's 
had  he  not  been  sent  in  disgrace  to  my  Lord  Essex. 

"  Thank  God,  I  have  yet  a  chance,"  muttered  Hal  to 
himself.  His  own  seventh  troop  would  be  the  last.  He 
would  certainly  find  a  spare  horse  in  the  command.  He 
crouched  behind  a  bushy  alder  looking  into  the  doubtful 
shadows,  scarce  conscious  of  the  slim  little  figure  which 
crouched  beside  him  or  the  touch  of  that  small  hand  so 
warm  within  his.  He  was  thinking  of  strong  warlike 
things — things  in  which  little  Neiia  la  Fain  had  no  part — 
his  career — his  command,  his  general.  He  watched  the 
seventh  troop  disengage  itself  from  the  bridge.  That,  he 
thought,  must  be  Hog  Lane.  Black  and  sinuous  the 
column  made  its  way  up  the  pathway  of  trampled  sand. 

At  last  they  came.  He  could  see  little  Zered.  He 
could  see  his  own  horse,  his  Hereward,  led  in  his  place. 
Zered  had  not  forgotten  him.  He  started  down  the  slope 
and  with  one  easy  spring  he  was  in  the  saddle.  Zered 
let  go  the  rein.  Hereward  turned  to  bite  his  master's 
leg  in  a  friendly  fashion,  while  behind,  their  Captain 
being  restored  to  them,  all  Hog  Lane  rejoiced. 

But  under  the  scrub  thickets  a  little  figure  watched. 
He  had  never  said  good-bye,  but  her  heart  was  too  proud 
of  what  she  heard  and  saw  to  care. 

He,  the  man  she  loved,  riding  his  great  horse,  his 
white  plume  blowing  out  on  the  night  air,  his  sword 
clanking  against  the  sabretache — and  then  the  relentless 
march  of  the  squadrons  blotting  out  the  silent  stars. 


XVIII 
THE  HARDENING  OF  HOG  LANE 

AFTER  this  there  was  no  rest  for  the  Ironsides  till 
j\  the  great  fight  was  over.  The  business  of  the  war 
pressed  fiercely.  The  King  gained  mightily.  From 
north,  south,  and  west  came  daily  tidings  of  his  successes. 
Hopton  had  swept  the  south.  Rupert  was  everywhere 
in  the  Midlands.  The  traitor  Hotham  had  delivered  up 
Hull  and  the  road  to  London  lay  open. 

But  between  them  and  victory  over  the  Houses  lay 
one  enemy  whose  force  they  had  not  yet  tried — the  New 
Model  regiments  raised  by  the  Governor  of  Ely,  Colonel 
Cromwell.  But  the  secret  had  been  well  kept.  Only 
Hotham  suspected. 

*'  Above  all  things,"  he  wrote,  when  he  proposed  to 
deliver  up  Lincoln,  "  Colonel  Cromwell  must  be  pre- 
vented from  riding  hither,"  his  way  with  traitors  was 
known  to  be  an  exceedingly  short  one. 

The  swords  of  Hal's  seventh  troop  mowed  a  bloody 
swathe  down  Slash  Lane  on  the  day  of  Winceby  Fight. 
They  cleared  all  Lincolnshire.  They  rode  with  Colonel 
Cromwell  all  the  way  to  Gloucester.  They  captured 
strengths  and  country-houses  by  the  dozen — Danbury 
among  the  number,  lying  deserted  with  no  man  to 
defend  it,  save  stout  old  Hepburn,  who,  being  offered  a 
choice  betw^een  the  gallows  and  an  employment  with 
Fairfax's  gunners,  very  wisely  decided  for  the  artillery, 
where  he  began  most  philosophically  to  do  his  duty  and 
organise  his  charge  like  the  stout  old  soldier  of  fortune 
he  was. 

Once  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter  came  to  Ely  to  see 

168 


THE  HARDENING  OF  HOG  LANE       1G9 

his  daughter,  riding  in  unawares  and  finding  her  with 
sleeves  tucked  up  and  shortened  kirtle,  learning  how  to 
make  shortcake.  Whereat,  great  man  that  he  was,  he 
stood  under  the  portal  of  the  passage  door,  and,  clap- 
ping his  hands  together,  cried,  "  Bravo,  Moll,  this  is  a 
better  sight  for  a  father's  eyes  than  if  I  had  caught 
you  riding,  booted  and  spurred,  by  the  side  of  Prince 
Robber." 

Molly,  with  the  stirring  stick  in  her  hand,  turned  to 
her  visitor  and  said,  "  Better  for  you,  father,  for  in  that 
case  I  should  have  caught  you !  "  My  Lord  Woodham 
Walter,  after  taking  counsel,  brief  and  to  the  point  with 
that  exceedingly  busy  man,  Colonel  Cromwell,  Governor 
of  Ely  City,  and  after  smoking  much  excellent  tobacco 
with  his  friend,  Mr.  Ludlow,  the  Parliamentary  Commis- 
sioner, decided  that  he  could  not  do  better  than  leave 
his  daughter  where  she  was,  among  the  lively  young 
people  of  the  Tithe  House,  which  stood  open-doored  all 
day  long,  filled  as  to  its  great  yard  with  the  rolling  of 
waggon  wheels  and  the  clank  and  clatter  of  arms,  the 
comings  and  goings  of  stafT-captains  and  the  breathless 
entries  and  exits  of  gallopers  bearing  missives  from  this 
post  and  that.  Within  the  house,  too,  there  was  stir  and 
bustle.  Idle  Dick  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  ride  with 
the  Slepe  Troop  as  a  private  soldier.  His  mother  had 
bought  him  (secretly,  as  she  supposed)  a  horse  and  outfit 
— and  Colonel  Cromwell,  alert  but  saying  nothing,  grimly 
awaited  the  outcome.  But  he  conveyed  to  Cornet  Sam 
Squire  a  hint  that  Idle  Dick  was  to  be  kept  remarkably 
busy,  and  to  Captain  Harry  Cromwell  that  he  was  to 
overlook  no  breach  of  discipline  in  his  troop,  no  matter 
who  the  offender  might  be. 

"  If  you  mean  Dick,"  the  lad  had  answered,  "  I  will 
thrash  him  till  he  can't  stand  if  he  so  much  as  cocks  a 
feather  at  me." 

"  Well,  lad,  he  is  your  brother,  and  what  is  more  to 
the  purpose  your  mother's  son;  but  first  of  all,  if  he  is 


170  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

to  ride  with  the  Slepe  Troop,  he  must  submit  to  disci- 
pHne,  which  you  are  there  to  see  enforced." 

As  for  Captain  Hal  Ludlow  he  was  kept  busy  in  the 
north  all  the  winter  season.  Colonel  Cromwell  was 
hardening  Hog  Lane,  and  during  all  these  weary  months 
he  used  them  mercilessly  in  the  business  of  pacifying  the 
country. 

He  would  come  into  the  red-hung  winter  parlour, 
where  his  wife  and  daughters  were  sitting  with  books  and 
workbaskets  in  the  lights  of  the  candles,  and  with  their 
feet  towards  the  cheerful  blaze. 

"  A  good  night  to  you,  good  folk,"  he  would  say ; 
"  and  whom  have  you  had  to  see  you  to-day  ?  " 

It  was  usually  his  favourite  Bess  who  was  quickest  to 
reply. 

"  Oh,  father,  we  had  a  visit  from  Hal  Ludlow ;  he 
came  to  see  us  all,  but  of  course  Molly  in  particular 
(because  he  calls  her  his  '  prisoner '  and  asks  to  see  her 
chains  and  fetters!).  But  he  had  hardly  begun  to  tell  us 
what  he  had  been  doing,  when  that  horrid  little  Zered 
Tuby  came  in  to  tell  us  that  the  troop  was  ordered  to 
Lincoln  City.  We  bade  Zered  begone  and  leave  his 
Captain  in  peace,  for  Hal  was  weary  with  much  riding. 
But  he  would  not,  and  poor  Hal  must  go.  I  would  have 
given  Zered  a  box  on  the  ears,  and  I  did  give  Hal  a  hearty 
kiss — yes,  I  did — and  I  am  not  ashamed.  So  did  mother 
and  all  of  us." 

"  Poor  young  man,  indeed,"  said  Cromwell,  gravely 
sympathetic,  "  to  be  snatched  away  from  such  sweet- 
meats." 

"  Oh,  if  he  had  stayed  he  would  not  have  had  the 
kisses " 

"  So  perhaps  on  the  whole  Master  Hal  is  better  ofif  as 
it  is,"  commented  Oliver,  pinching  his  daughter's  ear,  for 
Bess  was  ever  his  comrade. 

"  Oh,  but  we  had  a  thousand  things  to  ask  him.  He 
has  been  away  for  full  three  months  and  we  have  only 


THE  HARDENING  OF  HOG  LANE       171 

seen  him  twice — and  both  times  he  hath  been  swept  off 
before  he  had  time  to  answer  a  hundredth  part  of  our 
questions." 

"  My  Lord  Fairfax  is  a  very  hard  general,"  said  Crom- 
well, with  mock  sympathy.  "  I  suffer  from  his  restless- 
ness daily  myself.  He  is  always  finding  something  new 
for  me  to  do." 

"  Father,  could  you  not  speak  to  him  for  Hal  and 
Harry?  The  poor  lads  grow  lean  as  rake  handles.  Why 
not  let  Dick  have  a  troop  and  go  out  in  his  turn?  " 

"  He  is  helping  Sam  Squire  with  the  accounting  and 
is  more  use  to  us  there  than  commanding  any  number 
of  troops." 

"  Richard  is  a  good  lad,  and  I  will  not  have  him  spoken 
against  in  this  house,"  put  in  Dame  Cromwell. 

Colonel  Cromwell  patted  his  wife's  comfortable 
shoulder.  "  Dick  shall  not  suffer  for  being  a  good  son 
to  his  mother.  Length  of  days  shall  he  have,  but  he  is 
less  fitted  for  the  hard  tumble  of  battling  with  Rupert 
and  the  Newark  rough  riders  than  either  of  our  two 
Hals." 

"  Richard  hath  much  heart  and  a  delicate  nature," 
said  Dame  Elizabeth  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity. 

"  The  trouble  lies  just  there,"  said  Cromwell;  "if  the 
Cambdeners  and  Rupert's  men  wereallasdelicate-natured 
as  Dick,  there  might  be  some  use  sending  him  to  deal 
with  them,  but  you  see  they  are  plain  robbers  and  strong- 
handed  marauders.  So  rough,  stout,  honest  fellows  like 
Hal  Ludlow  and  Harry  Cromwell  must  go  to  argue  with 
them — not  at  all  delicately." 

"  Oh,  husband,  is  it  true  that  my  Henry  has  killed  a 
man  in  fight  and  hanged  prisoners ?" 

"  They  were  plunderers  and  deserved  no  better !  " 

"  Still  it  is  true  that  he  hanged  them,  and  he  was  such 
a  pretty  baby !  " 

Colonel  Cromwell  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile.  He 
humoured  his  wife  and  did  not  argue  with  her. 


172  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  He  has  his  orders  for  all  he  has  done,"  he  said ;  "  a 
soldier  must  obey  orders." 

"Whose  order  had  Harry?"  persisted  his  wife. 
"  Whose  orders  caused  a  sweet  boy  like  my  Harry  to  be 
set  to  doing  the  work  of  the  common  hangman?" 

"  Mine !  "  thundered  the  head  of  the  house  explosively, 
suddenly  putting  an  end  to  all  discussion.  "  Bridget, 
bring  the  Books  for  the  evening  worship  of  God." 

Hal  Ludlow  was  wholly  happy  during  this  period  of 
his  life.  He  was  young  and  weather-hardened.  Hog 
Lane  became  a  seasoned  troop,  working  together  like 
well-oiled  machinery.  He  had  quite  forgotten  the  sweet 
carelessness  of  summer  and  the  idle  days  on  the  edge  of 
Crow  Wood  which  had  so  nearly  cost  him  his  life.  His 
men  he  now  knew  one  by  one.  There  was  no  coward 
among  them — how  could  there  be  a  traitor?  Certainly 
the  doctor  must  have  been  mistaken. 

He  met  him  on  his  way  to  the  Tithe  House  the  night 
when  the  troop  was  summoned  to  the  relief  of  Lincoln. 
He  had  hailed  him  to  ask  after  Nefia  and  the  Wassailer, 
and  also  to  give  him  a  dozen  gold  pieces  to  expend  for 
their  benefit  if  he  found  it  possible  or  necessary.  The 
Huguenot  was  a  difficult  object  of  charity,  but  the 
Edinburgh  doctor  well  understood  his  feeling — a  common 
one  among  his  own  country-folk.  But  he  lied  most 
boldly  in  prescribing  medical  comforts,  and  in  declaring 
that  they  must  return  thanks  to  Providence  and  to  the 
Parliament  whose  servant  he  was  for  the  pension  which 
the  Wassailer  consented  to  receive. 

He  had  given  what  help  he  could,  but  he  told  the 
Wassailer,  with  the  bluntness  of  his  race,  that  doctor's 
drugs  even  of  the  best  would  be  of  little  good  so  long 
as  the  Huguenot  remained  among  the  dank  thickets  of 
the  Isle  Jatte. 

"  Man,  three  months  on  the  hills  would  do  ye  more 
good  than  a  whole  apothecary's  shop — what  am  I  say- 


THE  HARDENING  OF  HOG  LANE      173 

ing?  Three  months — one  month  would  do  the  business. 
There's  no  firm  soil  here.  If  ye  stamp  your  foot,  the 
island  rocks  on  the  rotten  water  beneath.  Never  an 
honest  burn  running  clitter-clatter  over  the  pebbles  and 
the  very  grass  neither  glad  nor  wholesome — and  all  as 
weary  as  Doomsday  morning!  " 

"  But  how  are  we  to  hve  away  from  the  fens?  "  asked 
the  Wassailer.  "  The  birds  are  here — the  fishes  are  in  the 
hand  of  God.  There  are  good  markets  near  by  where 
we  can  sell  them  ?  " 

The  doctor  lifted  up  his  hands  with  a  hopeless  gesture. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  can  live,"  he  announced  a 
little  brutally ;  "  but  I  know  very  well  where  you  will 
die  if  you  do  not  flit  before  long!  " 

Hal  went  away  sadly  enough  and  often  thought  of  the 
lonely  couple  on  the  Isle  Jatte — the  man  slowly  dying 
of  marsh  fever  and  the  girl  bound  sooner  or  later  to  go 
the  same  way. 

But  he  was  soon  in  the  midst  of  his  marchings  and 
fightings  again — night  surprises  and  sudden  onfalls  in 
desperate  winter  dawnings,  w^hite  volleys  of  musketry, 
and  King's  horsemen  who  must  be  instantly  charged  and 
ridden  down.  For  times  were  changed  indeed.  No  more 
mere  summer  campaignings,  with  my  Lord  Essex  lying 
months  inactive  while  the  enemy  swarmed  and  ravaged 
up  to  his  very  outposts.  Colonel  Cromwell  taught  his 
men  during  these  months  that  there  is  no  weather  too 
bitter  in  which  to  make  war.  If  the  enemy  was  to  be 
reached,  no  time  was  better  than  the  long  blackness  of  a 
winter  night.  No  charge  was  more  certainly  successful 
than  that  made  through  the  whirling  drifts  of  an  easterly 
snowstorm. 

More  than  once  Hal  dismounted  his  men,  lined  hedges 
with  musketry  fire  as  a  dripping  enemy  toiled  heavily 
up  hill  in  the  face  of  a  tempest  of  rain,  waited  till  they 
had  turned  about,  and  then  remounting  and  reforming 
his  troop,  charged  like  a  thunderbolt,  and  so  conquered. 


174  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Conquered !  Rather  so,  indeed.  For  by  this  time  the 
twenty  troops  of  Cromwell's  regiments  had  come  to  this 
of  it,  that  they  never  thought  of  failing.  They  knew  they 
would  conquer.  The  enemy  also  knew  it,  and  so  the 
issue  of  each  event  was  certain.  The  Ungodly  trembled 
at  the  name  of  Hog  Lane  and,  remembering  certain 
former  escapades,  wondered  what  Hal  Ludlow  was  doing 
among  the  Anabaptist  prophets. 

Rupertian  plunderers,  long  accustomed  to  the  license 
of  locusts,  were  now  hanged  upon  convenient  trees,  rid- 
dled with  bullets  against  opposite  walls,  or  more  fre- 
quently driven  in,  hungry  and  unsatisfied,  upon  the  main 
army  of  the  Robber  Prince.  He  was  hungry  also — 
angry  too,  and  disgusted  with  the  new  turn  of  aiTairs. 
Everyone  knew  that  soon  an  outbreak  on  his  part  was 
to  be  apprehended.  Twenty  thousand  men  could  not 
swagger  in  idleness  along  Oxford  High  Street,  gaunt  and 
hungry  bellied,  merely  to  see  the  college  windows 
lighted  and  the  loyal  fellows  going  in  to  dine.  If 
work  was  not  to  be  found  for  these  haggard  riders  there 
would  be  the  devil  to  pay  one  day  not  far  off  in  the 
college  butteries. 

To  Colonel  Cromwell  and  the  wise  cool  heads  who 
acted  under  him  (for  the  most  part  in  perfect  independ- 
ence), Oxford  became  the  puzzle  which  needed  solution. 
What  was  going  on  there?  Of  what  were  the  King's  men 
thinking?  On  what  were  they  living?  When  and 
whither  would  they  march? 

Externally  the  King  had  never  been  so  prosperous. 
But  though  Essex  lay  inactive,  while  Manchester  like  a 
good  Presbyterian  prayed  for  the  Scots,  the  new  Eastern 
Association  troops  knew  the  King's  weakness. 

All  that  winter  the  fighting  troops  of  Cromwell's  regi- 
ments were  kept  moving  and  hardening  themselves.  The 
fens  were  frozen.  Sufificient  snow  had  fallen  to  make 
every  canal  an  admirable  highway  of  ice. 

All    South   Lincoln    from   Lindsey   to    the   verges   of 


THE  HARDENING  OF  HOG  LANE      175 

Kesteven  and  Holland  were  swept  bare  as  the  palm  of 
a  man's  hand.  Wherever  the  King's  men  were  met  with, 
day  or  night,  they  found  themselves  charged  and  swept 
off  the  face  of  the  earth,  in  a  hurly-burly  of  barking 
muskets  and  flashing  swords — the  feet  of  galloping 
horses  in  pursuit  falling  upon  hard  earth  with  the  thun- 
der of  surf  on  a  pebbly  beach. 

Hal  Ludlow  became  as  weather-beaten  and  bronzed 
a  veteran  as  any  general  could  wish  to  see,  silently 
obedient  mostl}',  but  when  left  to  himself  full  of  resource, 
and  when  asked  for  an  opinion,  giving  it  with  quick  self- 
respect, 

"  A  precious  lad !  "  Colonel  Cromwell  had  said  of  him 
to  Ireton,  ''  There  is  now  hardly  a  hair  to  choose  be- 
tween Hog  Lane  and  the  Slepe  Troop  itself." 

But  Master  Hal  himself  was  not  by  any  means  so  satis- 
fied, which  was  the  best  of  all  signs. 

He  had  been  victorious.  Castles  and  defended  manors 
had  fallen  to  him,  but  he  had  found  no  men  within,  cap- 
tured few  prisoners  of  note,  and  even  the  St.  Xeot's  men, 
with  whom  Idle  Dick  now  rode  (the  Slepe  Troop  having 
cast  him  quietly  out),  triumphed  openly  over  them  when 
it  came  to  the  division  of  spoil. 

For  this  last  Hal  cared  little,  but  he  spoke  bitterly  to 
his  lieutenant  of  the  way  in  which  they  were  allowing 
themselves  to  be  distanced. 

"  There  is  a  traitor  somewhere,"  he  declared  to  little 
Zered ;  "  our  plans  are  known  to  the  enemy.  Only  last 
week  when  we  surprised  Belvoir,  we  fell  upon  a  hornet's 
nest  sent  from  the  Newark  garrison.  Yet  the  intention 
was  not  known  outside  the  troop,  and  to  them  only  a 
bare  twelve  hours." 

"  Somebody  is  certainly  a  very  good  guesser,"  said 
Zered.  "  But  I  cannot  believe  in  treachery.  Every  man 
fights  well  and  only  cowards  are  traitors.  But  let  us 
have  in  the  rolls  and  take  the  men  name  by  name." 

But  they  could  make  nothing  of  it.    "  A  few  men  may 


176  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

be  lukewarm  and  careless  in  religious  observances,"  here 
Zered  cocked  his  eye  at  his  Captain,  "  but  they  have 
always  stood  to  it  stoutly  when  blows  were  going  and 
steel  was  flashing." 

The  man  who  brought  in  the  muster  sheets,  Doe  Royds 
— now  on  account  of  his  courage  and  bodily  strength 
doing  duty  as  guard  corporal — stood  at  a  distance  and 
watched  with  sombre  eye  the  discussion  he  could  not 
hear. 

He  had  in  his  belt  at  that  moment  a  rouleau  of  gold 
pieces  which  had  never  been  paid  out  of  the  regimental 
treasury.  But  though  he  knew  that  on  account  of  his 
late  and  irregular  recruiting  he  was  bound  to  be  an 
object  of  suspicion,  he  moved  no  muscle,  but  stood  to 
grave  attention  at  the  proper  distance  while  his  officers 
were  consulting  together,  altogether  impassive  and  ap- 
parently conscience-free. 

Zered  made  a  mistake.  It  takes  a  great  deal  of  very 
real  courage  to  be  a  traitor  of  the  right  sort — one,  that  is, 
whose  information  is  worth  paying  for.  He  risks  igno- 
minious death  every  moment  from  the  side  he  is  betray- 
ing, while  from  the  other  he  has  nothing  to  expect  except 
money.  He  knows  that  he  will  be  disowned  if  taken, 
and  despised  if  he  escapes.  Yet  there  are  men  who 
undertake  all  this  and  carry  it  through  with  a  sort  of 
fierce  pride  to  be  thus  juggling  with  the  gallows  or  the 
firing  party.    And  of  such  was  Doe  Royds. 


XIX 

THE  LAST  OF  ISLE  JATTE 

ON  the  Isle  Jatte  winter  had  slain  the  fever  of  the 
marshes,  but  the  bitter  season  sealed  the  ponds  and 
made  shooting  difficult  for  a  man  as  weakened  by 
malaria  as  the  Wassailer.  But  Nefia  la  Fain,  having 
now  to  be  trapper  as  well  as  saleswoman,  took  blunder- 
buss and  powder-horn  in  the  old  fowler's  place. 

A  new  freshness  sent  the  colour  to  her  olive  cheeks, 
rounded  her  figure  delicately,  and  with  her  wild  locks 
tightly  banded  about  her  head  Nefia  added  (as  it  seemed 
quite  suddenly)  a  full  cubit  to  her  stature. 

The  latent  youth  within  her  was  breaking  bounds,  and 
she  never  went  to  market  now  without  receiving  tokens 
of  admiration,  impertinent  or  respectful  after  their  kind, 
to  which  she  had  been  previously  unaccustomed.  On 
more  than  one  occasion  the  roisterous  hermit  of  Grande 
Isle,  Old  Man  Peter,  had  brought  with  him  to  Jatte  Isle 
the  soldier  who  had  retreated  so  precipitately  at  the 
sight  of  Doctor  Lorraine  and  the  Captain  of  the  Seventh 
Troop. 

Neiia  did  not  like  the  man,  but  she  quite  understood 
his  anxiety  to  escape  the  capacity  for  anger  she  had  sur- 
prised once  or  twice  in  the  eyes  of  Captain  Ludlow,  and 
which  had  been  one  of  Colonel  Cromwell's  principal 
reasons  for  appointing  him.  For  a  captain  of  Ironsides 
without  a  capacity  for  wrath  would  have  been  useless 
indeed.  Nena  la  Fain,  ever  willing  to  screen  a  culprit, 
never  for  a  moment  dreamed  of  delivering  the  soldier  to 
justice.  She  went  about  her  work  and  left  him  in  the 
hut  talking  with  the  Wassailer  and  Old  Man  Peter.    But 

177 


178  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

the  word  to  the  doctor  was  not  spoken,  and  Hal  Ludlow 
she  never  saw  but  once  during  all  that  winter.  He  was 
leading  his  troop  towards  their  quarters  at  the  Intend- 
ance,  the  horses  plodding  wearily  with  drooping  heads, 
and  the  men  with  snow  crusted  upon  their  shoulders  and 
blown  into  the  plies  of  their  huge  grey  cloaks. 

But  the  friend  who  came  to  see  the  Wassailer  along 
with  Old  Man  Peter  was  no  other  than  acting  troop 
corporal  Doe  Royds  of  the  Seventh  Troop,  and  the  secret 
friend  whom  he  came  out  to  meet  was  his  old  master, 
Silas  Seale,  of  Boreham  Barns,  Quaker  and  spy. 

It  was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  between  Isle  Jatte 
and  Grande  Isle  a  very  burbled  skein  had  been  reeled  up, 
almost  impossible  to  unravel. 

If  Nefia  had  had  the  least  idea  that  such  a  man  could 
in  any  way  have  harmed  her  Captain  Hal,  white-plumed 
and  clad  in  steel,  she  would  have  laid  information  im- 
mediately, but  to  her  Hal  seemed  a  hero  invincible,  and 
the  more  so  that  each  market  day  she  made  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  town  house,  where  on  a  board  were  placarded  up 
all  the  exploits  of  the  troops  on  active  service  in  the 
government  of  the  Isle  of  Ely. 

She  was  standing  before  the  sheet  on  which  was  writ- 
ten: "7th  Troop,  Captain  Henry  Ludlow:  taking  of 
Wisby  House ;  dispersal  of  two  troops  of  Newark  for- 
agers under  Ensign  Cockerill !  Capture  of  thirty  men, 
ten  horses,  and  much  provender — wounded  in  the  troop. 
Oak  and  Le  Blond.  Recommendations  for  gallantry  in 
action,  Gordon  Ewell  and  Corporal  Royds." 

How  was  it  possible  for  Nefia  to  suspect  so  brave  a 
man?  There  was  that  in  the  eyes  of  Doe  Royds  which 
she  instinctively  avoided,  but  she  could  not  help  looking 
at  him  with  respect  as  one  recommended  for  bravery  by 
her  own  Captain  Hal,  who  better  than  any  knew  what 
it  was  to  be  brave. 

As  she  stood  there  a  man  passed  slowly  by,  and  then 
struck  by  the  immobility  of  the  young  figure  standing 


THE  LAST  OF  ISLE  JATTE  179 

in  front  of  the  army  reports  board,  he  turned  and  laid 
a  hand  on  her  shoulder.  Nefia  looked  up  to  find  a  tall 
old  man  in  long  Geneva  cloak  of  rustling  silk,  a  high- 
crowned  broad-brimmed  hat  and  under  it  fine  white  hair 
falling  to  his  shoulders.  Nena  knew  vaguely  that  this 
must  be  Doctor  Peter  Fisher,  the  great  Presbyterian 
divine,  who,  in  the  time  of  Laud's  greatness,  had  been 
expelled  from  Cambridge.  He  had  taken  refuge  in  Ely 
and  was  now  pastor  of  the  High  Church,  where  he  was 
listened  to  as  an  oracle. 

"  Why,  little  one,"  he  said,  touching  her  head  pater- 
nally, "  have  you  a  brother  or  a  sweetheart  among 
the  wounded?  I  have  seen  you  here  every  market 
day." 

Nefia  shook  her  head.  She  came  to  sell  wild  fowl  and 
fish,  she  said.  She  lived  on  Isle  Jatte  with  an  old  man 
who  had  been  kind  to  her. 

"  Do  you  mean  Jacques  the  Pluguenot?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Wassailer — he  has  been  very  ill.  The 
surgeon  says  he  will  die  before  the  summer  if  he  does 
not  go  to  a  higher  place  where  the  air  and  water  are 
wholesome." 

"  Come  into  my  house,"  said  the  minister,  after  a 
moment's  thought.  "  We  must  not  let  a  fellow-religionist 
die  if  we  can  help  it.  They  were  kind  to  me  once  in  his 
country.    Do  you  follow  me  to  my  study?  " 

So  Nena  followed  the  stately  Doctor  of  Divinity  to  a 
door  with  a  great  brass  knocker  which  shone  like  gold 
upon  the  panel.  He  opened  it  with  a  small  key 
and  let  them  both  into  a  wide  hall  filled  with  warmth 
from  a  great  fire  of  logs  which  burned  upon  huge 
andirons. 

Another  moment  and  by  the  opening  of  a  door  Nena 
found  herself  in  the  most  marvellous  place  she  had  ever 
seen  in  her  life,  the  theologian's  study — rare  books,  in 
serried  rows  all  about  it,  their  backs  giving  off  a  kind 
of  golden  clarity  of  light,  mellow  and  soothing  to  every 


180  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

lover  of  letters,  but  simply  amazing  to  a  wild  girl  like 
Nena  la  Fain. 

Yet  she  had  within  her  an  instinctive  love  of  books. 
She  read  and  re-read  with  avidity  the  few  books  which 
Jacques  the  Wassailer  had  brought  with  him — the 
Chronicle  of  the  League  in  six  dumpy  volumes,  the  big 
folio  History  of  Provence,  with  the  pictures  and  armorial 
bearings,  the  French  Genevan  Bible,  identical  in  type 
and  arrangement  with  that  famous  one  of  1560  published 
by  the  English  exiles  in  their  own  tongue.  But  after  all 
what  were  a  few  battered  volumes  tossed  about  in  a 
wanderer's  sea  chest  to  this  great  four-square  enclosure 
of  books? 

The  minister  struck  a  gong  by  the  door.  A  kindly- 
featured  elderly  woman  came  upstairs  drying  her  hands 
on  a  towel. 

"  This  is  the  daughter  of  a  Protestant  brother,  exiled 
for  conscience'  sake  upon  Isle  Jatte.  Take  her  and  make 
her  comfortable  till  I  return." 

He  took  up  his  high-crowned  felt  hat,  planted  it  upon 
his  white  locks,  and  staff  in  hand  sallied  out.  He  turned 
his  steps  first  towards  the  Intendance,  where  he  found 
Mr.  Commissioner  Ludlow  laboriously  passing  and 
signing  the  reports  prepared  for  him  by  his  pay  and 
forage  clerks.  With  him  was  another  gentleman,  who 
sate  in  the  fireplace  with  a  long  Dutch  pipe,  warming  his 
hands  at  the  blaze  and  puffing  complaisantly  up  the  wide 
chimney. 

"  A  good  day  to  you.  Doctor,"  said  the  Commissioner 
heartily.  For  he  was  an  elder  in  the  High  Church,  as 
became  every  good  Presbyterian  of  note  in  Ely  City. 
"  This  is  my  friend  and  fellow-elder,  my  Lord  Woodham 
Walter — whatever  you  have  to  say  can  be  said  before 
him." 

The  stately  theologian  bowed.  Lord  Woodham  Walter 
rose,  put  away  his  pipe,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  had  the  happiness  of  hearing  you  preach  on  Sun- 


THE  LAST  OF  ISLE  JATTE  181 

day,"  he  said ;  "  that  day  the  wall  was  daubed  with  no 
untempered  mortar !  " 

The  doctor  had  preached  in  the  hearing  of  Colonel 
Cromwell,  and  as  it  were  under  his  nose,  a  most  faithful 
sermon  against  the  Sects  which  the  great  soldier  was 
understood  to  favour,  Independents,  Brownists,  Baptists, 
and  Anabaptists. 

"  I  only  spoke  the  message  as  it  was  given  to  me," 
said  Doctor  Peter  Fisher. 

"  I  would  that  all  men  had  as  faithful  a  tongue  and  as 
clear  a  vision,"  said  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter ;  "  but 
I  detain  you  from  your  business." 

And  without  any  further  apology  he  resumed  his  low 
stool  of  black  oak  set  within  the  great  fireplace,  and 
began  to  draw  away  at  his  pipe,  leaving  the  two  gentle- 
men to  speak  together  by  the  great  desk  where  Mr. 
Commissioner  had  been  writing.  Doctor  Fisher  told  the 
story  of  Jacques  the  Huguenot  exile  of  Isle  Jatte,  as  far 
as  he  knew  it.  The  man  was  dying  of  chronic  marsh 
fever.  The  surgeon  declared  he  would  not  see  the  sum- 
mer heats,  yet  he  could  live  nowhere  else  in  all  that 
region.  He  had  been  a  fisher  and  bird  catcher  on  the 
salt  lakes  of  Provenge.  He  was  too  old  and  too  shaken 
to  learn  a  new  trade.  It  was  likely,  indeed,  that  trans- 
plantation to  a  town  would  be  as  fatal  as  continued 
residence  on  Jatte  Island. 

The  Parliamentary  Commissioner  had  a  mind  that 
worked  slowly.  He  had,  he  said,  nothing  to  offer  except 
about  the  barns  and  stables  of  the  Intendance,  or  in  his 
counting-house  in  Lombard  Street,  but  as  these  seemed 
barred,  he  did  not  see  what  he  could  suggest. 

Up  jumped  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter,  his  pipe 
falling  neglected  against  the  brick  wall  of  the  chimney 
corner. 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  man,"  he  exclaimed,  "  but  you 
are  of  small  device  to  be  a  Parliament  member.  I  al- 
ways knew  that  we  of  the  upper  house  could  beat  you. 


18a  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

man,  though  God  knows  little  enough  attention  is  paid 
to  what  we  say." 

"  You  are  all  too  busy  keeping  our  armies  idle,"  re- 
torted the  Commissioner,  with  a  grin,  which  showed  that 
the  subject  was  no  new  one. 

"  Tut,  Ludlow,  you  never  find  a  jest  but  you  ride  it  to 
death  out  of  sheer  surprise  at  your  own  wit.  But  I  have 
something  to  propose  to  your  Wassailer  better  than 
forage  guard  or  stable  boy.  You  have  heard  of  our 
famous  Osea  Island — no,  of  course  not,  how  could  a 
Parliament  man  hear  of  anything  which  did  not  lie 
between  Westminster  and  the  Tower  Hamlets?  But 
Osea  is  part  of  my  estate  in  Essex.  It  lies  out  from 
Maldon  in  the  full  wash  of  the  tides.  It  is  healthy  as  the 
German  Ocean,  My  late  guard  ran  off  to  Oxford  during 
the  disturbances — that  wretch  of  a  girl  of  mine  ought 
to  be  whipped.  The  place  and  house  are  at  your  friend's 
service.  Fish  and  fowl  there  are  in  plenty  and  no  fever 
within  scores  of  miles.  There  is  a  boat  which  he  can 
sail,  a  couple  of  skiffs  besides,  and  I  shall  pay  him  the 
same  wages  as  my  late  rascal." 

Doctor  Peter  bowed  his  stateliest  thanks  to  the  em- 
phatic little  nobleman.  A  bargain  was  struck,  and  the 
minister  of  the  High  Church  hastened  back  to  find  Neiia 
comfortably  installed  by  the  kitchen  fire  and  in  talk  with 
his  housekeeper. 

"  I  will  come  with  you  to  see  your  father,"  he  an- 
nounced as  both  the  girl  and  the  woman  rose  simul- 
taneously to  their  feet. 

The  elder  cried  out  against  such  a  venture — his  health 
— the  time  of  year,  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  the 
shortness  of  the  winter  days — all  were  vainly  invoked  as 
reasons  why  he  should  not  stir  from  home.  The  doctor 
was  going,  the  doctor  would  go ! 

They  went  by  hard-bitten  paths  through  the  winter 
woods,  where  the  leaves  crackled  crisp  under  foot,  many 
of  them  ice-covered  and  shining.    Neiia's  young  shoulder 


THE  LAST  OF  ISLE  JATTE  183 

bore  up  the  old  man's  hand,  and  with  his  stout  oaken 
staff  in  the  other  he  made  brave  progress.  Only  at  the 
point  of  the  Isle  could  they  cross,  for  there  the  tides  had 
kept  the  water  free  and  the  ice  in  motion.  They  arrived 
at  last,  and  found  the  Wassailer  preparing  supper  for 
Nena  on  her  return.  The  old  Huguenot,  by  race  and 
training  an  admirer  of  order  and  decency,  drew  up  his 
long  lean  body  to  salute  the  great  preacher  and  notable 
man  of  God. 

Solemnly  with  upraised  hand  Doctor  Peter  invoked 
a  blessing  upon  the  humble  shelter  of  clay  and  wattle. 
He  could  not  have  done  more  nobly  for  White  Hall  or 
St.  James's. 

Then  he  sat  down  and  began  to  speak,  sweeping  away 
doubt,  objection,  and  difficulty  in  the  flow  of  his  argu- 
ment. It  was  dark  before  the  anxieties  of  the  Wassailer 
could  be  set  at  rest.  But  at  last  he  declared  that  he  was 
ready  to  go  to  Osea  Island  and  would  serve  my  Lord 
faithfully  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  Snow  also  had  begun 
to  fall,  and  as  the  signs  were  those  of  a  three  days'  storm 
which  might  block  the  Isle  for  weeks,  Doctor  Peter 
ordered  the  Wassailer  to  pack  up  his  most  precious 
belongings,  and  return  with  him  to  his  house  in  Ely  till 
such  time  as  the  remainder  of  the  household  gear  and 
hunting  traps,  the  nets  and  tackle  could  be  recovered.  It 
was  past  eleven  of  the  clock  when  Mistress  Martha  Vines, 
standing  on  the  storm-beaten  threshold  of  the  presbytery, 
went  indoors  without  a  word  of  welcome,  her  anxiety 
concerning  her  master  turning  instantly  into  resentment 
as  soon  as  she  knew  him  safe.  She  went  into  the  kitchen 
and  prepared  a  foot-bath  dusted  thick  with  mustard, 
which  she  carried  to  the  doctor's  bedroom,  and  com- 
pelled him  to  sit  down  in  his  dressing-gown  while  she 
peeled  off  a  pair  of  perfectly  dry  socks  with  vicious  jerks, 
exclaiming  against  men  who  would  follow  any  run-the- 
hedge  for  the  sole  purpose  of  causing  work  and  worry  to 
honest  people.    Then  she  inserted  his  feet  one  after  the 


184.  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSn)ES 

other  into  the  mustard  bath,  wholly  unmoved  by  his 
protestations  that  she  might  just  as  well  have  thrust 
them  between  the  bars  of  the  grate. 

"  I  have  stood  the  Star  Chamber  and  in  the  pillory, 
but  honestly.  Mistress  Martha,  this  is  worse  than  either." 

He  submitted,  however,  and  presently,  re-hosed  and 
warmly  vestmented,  he  was  allowed  to  go  down  to  enter- 
tain his  guests. 


XX 

MARSTON  MOOR 

IN  the  North  the  armies  were  gathered.     All  a  sum- 
mer's day  they  had  watched  each  other,  the  Parlia- 
ment and  the  Scots  upon  the  ridge,  and  upon  the 
open  moor  towards  York  all  that  was  most  renowned 
and  gallant  of  that  England  which  stood  for  the  King. 

Newcastle's  famous  Whitecoats,  who  had  sworn  to 
dye  their  uniforms  in  the  enemy's  blood,  Porter's  foot, 
my  Lord  Goring's  horse,  and  as  Commander-in-Chief 
over  all,  the  Prince  Rupert,  with  his  brilliant  division 
of  cavaliers  which  had  never  yet  known  defeat. 

Rupert  knew  that  the  most  famous  generals  of  the 
Parliament  were  in  front  of  him — Leven,  Leslie,  Craw- 
ford, and  the  two  Fairfaxes,  father  and  son,  but  for  him 
only  one  man  counted. 

"  Is  Cromwell  among  you  ?  "  he  asked  a  prisoner,  who 
was  brought  before  him.     "  Where  is  he  posted  ?  " 

The  man  showed  the  extreme  left  of  the  enemy's  posi- 
tion above  the  village  street.  Along  the  smooth  verge 
of  the  hill  shone  the  steel  "  pots,"  the  white  feathers 
and  red  coats  of  the  Ironsides  of  the  Eastern  Associa- 
tion, 

"Will  they  fight?"  demanded  Rupert. 

"  Aye,"  said  the  man,  who  had  seen  Gainsborough  and 
Winceby,  "  wherever  Colonel  Cromwell  is  they  always 
fight." 

"  Go  and  tell  your  Cromwell  that  if  he  will  fight,  he 
shall  have  fighting  enough." 

"  If  it  please  God,"  said  Cromwell,  when  he  had  lis- 
tened to  the  message,  "so  shall  he!" 

185 


186  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Hal  was  posted  in  the  very  centre  of  the  line  with  all 
his  Hog  Laners  behind  him.  Right  and  left  were  the 
Slepe  Troop  and  the  St.  Neot's  men.  Only  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  divided  the  armies  after  Rupert  had  brought 
his  cavaliers  to  the  ground  where  he  was  at  last  to 
measure  swords  with  Cromwell. 

It  was  weary  work  under  the  blazing  July  sun,  but 
Hog  Lane  was  conscious  of  its  responsibilities.  At  last 
that  was  going  to  happen  for  which  they  had  endured 
such  rigours  of  discipline,  such  ardours  of  combat. 

They  knew  without  being  told,  that  if  they  were  de- 
feated and  York  relieved,  it  was  all  over  with  the  Eastern 
Association,  all  over  with  the  Parliament.  King  Charles 
would  rule  absolutely  over  the  three  kingdoms.  But  in 
each  man's  heart  was  the  belief  that  Hog  Lane,  Slepe, 
St.  Neot's,  and  Downham  were  invincible.  Colonel 
Crornwell  (who  that  day  and  ever  afterwards  was  Gen- 
eral Cromwell)  spoke  no  word  to  his  officers.  The  offi- 
cers had  not  an  order  to  give  their  sergeants  or  corporals. 
Each  trooper  silently  looked  to  his  equipment,  and  took 
his  appointed  place  in  an  impressive  silence. 

Their  cause  was  the  best,  their  discipline  was  the  best, 
their  General  was  the  best  any  army  had  ever  known. 
Some  of  them  would  surely  die,  but  all  of  them  would 
conquer. 

The  heat  of  the  day  was  passed  when  over  the  moor 
came  the  reinforcements  for  which  Rupert  had  been 
waiting,  the  old  soldier  Eythen,  Newcastle's  chief  of 
staff,  with  the  Northern  battalions  of  York  Castle  garri- 
son, a  dense  and  serried  array  of  twenty  standards  and 
four  thousand  men.  The  sun  began  to  descend  towards 
the  west.  It  was  six  of  the  clock  when  the  distant 
cannon  began  to  be  heard. 

A  kind  of  shiver  ran  along  the  ranks — by  no  means  of 
fear,  but  rather  of  men  settling  themselves  more  easily 
in  their  saddles.  Steel  "  pots  "  were  driven  more  firmly 
over  the  four  thousand  cropped  polls  of  Oliver's  horse. 


MARSTON  MOOR  187 

There  was  an  involuntary  edging  out  towards  the  left 
and  a  measuring  of  distances  so  that  nothing  should 
impede  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  sword-arm. 

With  his  eye  Hal  marked  the  ground.  He  found  it  just 
enough  for  the  charge  to  gather  force.  The  ditch  in 
front  of  Rupert's  men? — he  knew  that  would  not  stop 
Hog  Lane  for  a  moment.  Posedly,  with  the  confidence 
which  men  have  in  a  great  leader,  Hal  watched  Crom- 
well, who  was  sitting  his  horse  a  little  in  advance  of  the 
troops.  He  could  see  him  put  his  hand  frequently  to  his 
helmet  to  shade  his  eyes  in  order  to  judge  the  number 
and  force  of  the  opposition  he  must  encounter.  He  knew 
better  than  any  that  the  moment  for  which  he  had  worked 
and  prayed  for  eighteen  months  was  now  close  at  hand. 

The  great  Prince  with  all  his  invincible  horsemen  was 
now  in  his  front,  come  there  expressly  to  try  the  mettle 
of  the  New  Model.  If  they  were  beaten,  all  was  over. 
Lucky  they  who  managed  among  the  cargo  of  a  trading 
ship  to  escape  to  the  shores  of  New  England. 

"  Into  this  battle,"  said  Cromwell  over  his  shoulder, 
as  Hereward,  nervous  with  the  waiting,  and  the  flies, 
ranged  up  closer  to  the  Colonel's  grey,  "  let  no  man  go 
lightheartedly.  If  we  are  beaten  it  were  better  that  we 
should  not  come  out  alive." 

The  sun,  sinking  lower,  flecked  the  rugged  surface  of 
the  moor  with  innumerable  flashes  of  fire.  Immediately 
in  front  and  quite  close  was  the  whole  division  of  Ru- 
pert's cavaliers,  proud  and  unbeaten,  a  mass  of  brilliant 
accoutrements,  tossing  heads  of  noble  horses,  and  hel- 
mets with  floating  plumes.  Many  among  the  princely 
regiments  disdained  the  fluted  casques,  calling  them 
"  Puritan  pots,"  "  Scots'  saucepans,"  and  other  more 
opprobrious  terms.  They  were  gentlemen,  they  said,  and 
would  go  into  the  battle  like  gentlemen,  with  a  Vandyke 
hat  and  sweeping  plumes  of  blue  and  white.  The  red 
Montero  cap  which  Rupert  ordinarily  wore  had  also 
been  adopted  by  a  great  number  of  troops. 


188  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Away  to  the  right  Hal  could  see  the  long  array  of 
infantry  regiments,  now  being  strengthened  by  the 
garrison  of  York  which  had  come  out  with  Eythin. 
Every  moment  the  colour  of  the  array  changed  as  a 
new  regiment  moved  into  place.  But  in  the  centre  the 
renowned  Whitecoats  of  Newcastle  held  the  van,  giving 
the  effect  of  a  patch  of  close-growing  marguerites  or 
gowan  daisies  upon  the  brown  barrens  of  the  moor. 

To  the  extreme  left  not  much  could  be  seen,  except 
standards  pricking  out  of  the  dense  gorse-cover  which 
encumbered  that  part  of  the  field. 

After  that  rapid  glance  Hal  succeeded  in  reining  back 
Hereward  to  his  troop,  though  that  lordly  animal  snorted 
indignantly,  and  kept  up  a  dance  of  restless  feet,  as  if 
to  remind  his  master  that  the  business  of  a  war-horse 
was  to  charge.  Hereward  did  not  understand  this  wait- 
ing hour  after  hour.  He  had  seen  the  enemy  and  he 
snuffed  the  battle  from  afar.  He  had  been  accustomed 
to  the  short  thunder  of  the  charge,  the  breaking  noise 
of  hostile  squadrons  meeting,  and  then  to  the  sight  of 
the  enemy  fleeing  wildly  every  way  before  him  while 
he  and  his  master  careered  as  fleetly  after  them.  This 
was  Hereward's  programme  and  he  was  restless  and  un- 
easy, because  that  grey  horse  in  front  was  blocking  the 
way.  He  had  tried  to  pass,  but  had  been  roughly  checked 
back  into  place,  an  operation  he  hated.  Oh,  if  only  he 
could  bite  the  grey  horse  with  the  tall  man  who  sat  so 
stolidly  upon  it.  Then  perhaps  they  might  be  permitted 
to  fall  upon  that  insolent  array  in  a  thunder  of  hoofs  and 
a  storm  of  whirling  swords. 

The  artillery  spoke  more  often  from  the  moor,  and  the 
great  shots  ploughed  up  the  hill  behind.  A  galloper 
brought  word  to  Cromwell  that  his  nephew,  young  Val 
Walton,  had  been  killed. 

But  Cromwell  never  took  his  eyes  off  Rupert's  array 
as  he  received  the  news.  He  heard  as  though  he  heard 
it  not.     But  with  a  great  forward  leap  of  his  heart,  Hal 


MARSTON  MOOR  189 

saw  that  his  commander  suddenly  straightened  himself 
in  his  saddle.  Up  went  Cromwell's  sword  high  in  air, 
a  slender  flicker  of  gold  in  the  level  evening  light.  A 
single  trumpet  stridently  sounded  the  charge.  The 
charge !  All  down  the  long  line  of  two  thousand  sabres 
the  answering  flashes  burst  into  flame.  Cromwell  glanced 
once  behind  him  and  even  his  iron  composure  was 
stirred. 

"Behold,  Great  Babylon  that  I  have  built!" 

In  his  heart  the  words  rose  unbidden,  but  he  checked 
them  back.  "  Not  I,  but  the  Lord,"  he  muttered,  and 
waved  his  sword.  Already  he  was  a  score  of  yards  in 
front  of  his  battle  front. 

"  Charge !  " 

Two  thousand  men  heard  Cromwell's  voice  of  thunder, 
his  "  battle  "  voice  as  the  men  said.  The  mass  of  the 
troops,  marvellously  ranked,  rocked  with  the  coming 
excitement.  The  horses  began  to  trot,  quite  quietly  at 
first.  Instinctively  the  enemy's  fire  concentrated  itself 
upon  the  Slepe  and  Hog  Lane  Troops  which  Cromwell 
led  in  person.  The  speed  of  the  horses  quickened  as  the 
ground  sloped.  The  whole  line  was  galloping  now  and 
the  horses  were  as  eager  as  the  men.  Cromwell  kept  his 
distance  from  the  main  rank,  but  Hal  and  Zered  were 
close  behind  him.  They  could  see  the  cavaliers  of  Rupert 
in  solid  masses  preparing  also  to  charge,  but  not  clearly. 
All  had  become  swathed  in  a  mirage,  as  though  they  saw 
through  a  thin  veil  of  golden  mist  with  rainbow  lights 
shooting  through  it.  Otherwise  it  seemed  to  Hal  that 
all  these  two  thousand  men  behind  him  were  charging 
silently  as  in  a  dream.  He  saw  nothing  but  a  misty 
glamour  shot  through  by  lightning  flashes.  He  heard 
not  the  thunder  of  the  hoofs,  only  the  beating  of  his  own 
heart.  He  seemed  to  ride,  not  upon  honest  Hereward, 
but  upon  the  viewless  air.  Yet  his  brain  was  wide,  cool, 
and  empty  as  after  extreme  bodily  pleasure. 

Gradually  the  command  drew  together  till  each  rider's 


190  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

boot  could  touch  that  of  his  neighbour — that  they  might 
fall  in  a  more  resistless  avalanche  upon  the  enemy  as 
they  serried  their  ranks  more  and  more.  They  would  not 
let  a  single  man  through  their  files. 

The  gallop  had  become  wild  and  desperate.  The 
horses  stretched  themselves  like  coursed  hares.  More 
than  one  man  shouted  aloud  from  mere  tension  of 
nerves. 

"  The  ditch !  Beware  the  ditch !  "  shouted  Cromwell 
over  his  shoulder,  and  the  Captains  repeated  the  warning. 
But  strangely  enough  the  squadrons  passed  it  as  if  lifted 
over  by  the  mere  impulse  of  their  speed.  Fifty  yards 
more — thirty — ten!  And  then  the  crash,  when  with  a 
noise  which  was  heard  all  over  the  battle-field,  the  Iron- 
sides flung  themselves  upon  Rupert's  battalions. 

Thq  first  lines  of  the  Prince's  force  had  been  planted 
too  near  the  ditch.  There  was  no  room  for  their  horses 
to  gather  way.  But  the  Ironsides  came  upon  them  with 
scarce  diminished  speed,  rolled  them  up  and  cast  th^ 
back  upon  their  supporting  squadrons  which  in  turn  were 
thrown  into  instant  disorder.  But  Rupert  had  kept  well 
to  the  left  with  many  unbroken  regiments,  and  with  his 
usual  audacity  pushed  a  charge  upon  the  head  of  Crom- 
well's column. 

But  it  did  not  seem  to  Hal  that  their  advance  was 
much  more  difficult.  The  Ironsides,  accustomed  to 
victory,  continued  to  carry  all  before  them. 

Suddenly  they  saw  Colonel  Cromwell,  whose  sword 
had  been  rising  and  falling  like  a  flail  on  a  threshing- 
floor,  bend  forward  and  snatch  at  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle.  Two  Rhineland  men  had  attacked  him  at  once. 
One  he  had  killed,  but  the  sword  of  the  other  had  slipped 
from  his  helmet  and  wounded  him  in  the  neck.  Hal  and 
Zered  were  at  once  by  his  side.  The  Hog  Laners  opened 
out  and  checked  long  enough  to  allow  a  handkerchief 
which  had  served  Hal  as  an  arm  badge  to  be  tied  round 
Cromwell's   neck.      The   wound   proved   nothing   but   a 


MARSTON  MOOR  191 

scratch,  but  the  blow  on  the  head  had  momentarily 
beaten  the  leader  down. 

Nevertheless,  the  few  seconds  requisite  for  adjusting 
the  handkerchief  caused  a  slackening,  during  which  the 
fate  of  the  day  hung  in  the  balance.  But  the  moment 
that  Cromwell  was  again  seen  erect  in  his  saddle,  the 
Ironsides  swept  all  before  them  "  like  a  little  dust." 

"  The  Sword  of  the  Lord !  "  he  shouted. 

"And  of  Cromwell!"  chorused  the  triumphant  Iron- 
sides as  they  chased  the  hitherto  unconquered  Rupertians 
ofif  the  field. 

In  the  centre,  of  which  they  could  see  nothing,  the 
Scots  grimly  gained  ground  little  by  little,  but  on  the 
right  the  army  of  the  Fairfaxes  had  been  utterly  swept 
away  by  the  charge  of  Lord  Goring's  horse,  which  had 
lain  in  wait  for  them  as  they  struggled  up  by  the  narrow 
lane  which  led  through  the  wilderness  of  furze. 

The  wind  from  the  south  bore  back  the  gunpowder 
smoke,  so  that  when  Cromwell  checked  the  pursuit  to 
face  about  he  found  himself  quite  unable  to  see  his 
whereabouts.  He  detached  five  hundred  men  to  follow 
up  Rupert  and  see  that  he  did  not  return. 

Cromwell  hesitated  what  he  should  do.  To  the  right 
and  in  the  centre  the  enemy  were  evidently  still  unbroken, 
for  there  was  no  pour  of  fugitives  such  as  trickles  back- 
ward from  an  army  which  is  getting  the  worst  of  it.  He 
took  off  his  helmet  and  tried  to  fan  away  the  smoke. 
Hardly  had  he  replaced  it  when  out  of  the  swirling  reek, 
limping  and  wounded,  came  a  figure  so  black  with  smoke 
and  red  with  blood  as  to  seem  hardly  human. 

"  They  swept  us  away,"  it  cried ;  "  they  crushed  us. 
I  have  lost  my  father." 

It  was  the  younger  Fairfax. 

"  Why,  man,  what  has  happened?  " 

"  We  were  caught  in  the  Moor  Lane  like  mice  in  a 
trap,"  young  Fairfax  answered. 

"  Who  caught  you  ?  " 


192  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Goring's  horse.  They  were  all  over  us  in  a  moment, 
and  now  they  are  plundering  the  waggons." 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Cromwell,  "  give  him  a  charger, 
someone.  Now  do  you  lead  us,  and  we  will  catch  them 
as  they  come  back  with  their  loot.  Ha,  whom  have  we 
here — white  on  the  left  arm — our  men  then.  Sir  David, 
I  never  was  so  glad  to  see  you.  Between  us  we  shall 
make  this  a  great  day  for  the  Houses " 

"  And  for  Scotland,"  quoth  Sir  David  Leslie  drily,  who 
had  with  him  the  Scottish  horse,  the  pick  of  his  country- 
men ;  "  we  come  from  painting  the  Whitecoats  red." 

"  Are  they  broken?  "  demanded  Cromwell. 

"  They  are  dead  to  a  man !  "  said  Leslie. 

"  God  rest  all  gallant  souls  this  day,"  said  Cromwell. 
"  Now  lead  on,  Tom,  and  we  shall  make  a  good  end." 

The  reinforced  Ironsides  rode  straight  across  the  grim 
tussle  of  the  central  battle  where  the  three  Scottish  foot 
regiments  were  standing  firm,  and  pushing  back  Porter 
and  Eythin  inch  by  inch,  till  they  came  to  the  head  of 
the  lane  where  the  Fairfaxes  had  been  overwhelmed. 
Goring's  men  were  now  returning  laden  with  plunder, 
riding  easily  with  loosened  rein,  the  battle  being  well 
over  for  them,  when  like  a  thunderbolt  Oliver  fell  upon 
them,  David  Leslie  at  his  elbow,  Hal  and  Hog  Lane, 
Harry  Cromwell  and  Slepe  leading  the  onslaught.  They 
were  taken  unawares.  They  had  not  even  time  to  draw 
their  swords.  They  were  rolled  over  and  over,  pushed 
out  of  the  narrow  lane  and  slaughtered  among  the  gorse, 
holding  out  in  little  knots,  while  Fairfax's  vengeful  mus- 
kets had  their  turn.  Few  of  them  escaped,  for  the  Iron- 
sides were  between  them  and  the  road  to  York. 

So  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  that  summer  twilight 
there  was  a  long  killing,  done  with  full  intent  and  purpose 
— to  break  once  and  for  all  the  King's  power  in  the 
North  and  to  finish  with  it  before  the  night  should  fall. 

So  Hog  Lane,  smiting  and  glorying,  rolled  the  fight 
up  like  a  crimson  carpet  into  the  glowing  west,  so  that 


MARSTON  MOOR  193 

only  when  darkness  fell  so  black  that  friend  could  no 
longer  be  distinguished  from  foe,  did  the  fighting  cease. 
Bugles  called  here  and  there  unheeded.  Men  picketed 
their  horses  and  cast  themselves  down  in  the  darkness  to 
sleep,  the  living  among  the  dead.  But  Hog  Lane  kept 
watch  and  ward  with  Slepe  and  Downham  and  St.  Neot's, 
while  on  a  piled  "  biggin  "  of  peat,  a  formidable  figure  in 
glancing  armour  and  steel-capped  head,  his  neck  bound 
in  Hal's  napkin,  sat  Colonel  Cromwell,  the  conqueror  of 
Rupert,  burnishing  his  bloody  sword  with  tuft  after  tuft 
of  dry  bent  grass  plucked  at  the  hazard  of  his  arm  from 
the  trampled  face  of  Marston  Moor, 


XXI 

A  LITTLE  ESCORT  DUTY 

LIEUTENANT-GENERAL  CROMWELL  was  strid- 
.  ing  up  and  down  his  office,  biting  his  under  Hp 
and  frowning,  six  steps  and  turn — six  steps  and 
halt  at  the  window,  as  if  the  empty  clean-swept  yard  of 
the  Tithing  House  would  bring  him  council.  Save  in  the 
presence  of  danger  he  made  up  his  mind  slowly. 

Presently  he  turned  sharply  upon  Hal  Ludlow  who 
stood  respectfully  at  the  far  side  of  the  plain  deal  table, 
ink-stained  and  knife-hacked  like  a  school  desk. 

"  I  think  it  had  better  be  so,"  he  said.  "  You  will 
conduct  my  family  to  Danbury  which  my  Lord  has  put 
at  my  disposal.  I  myself  shall  be  infinitely  busy  for  some 
time.  The  King's  successes  in  the  West  are  nothing  to 
the  babbling  fools  at  Westminster,  and  our  own  divided 
counsels." 

"  I  shall  faithfully  perform  all  your  orders,"  said  Hal, 
feeling  that  he  was  speaking  as  one  of  the  foolish,  for  the 
thing  was  a  matter  of  course.  But  the  General's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him  with  such  intensity  that  he  was 
compelled  to  say  something.  To  the  spoken  words 
Cromwell  paid  no  attention.  It  is  unlikely  that  he  even 
heard,  his  mind  being  upon  the  battle  he  was  to  fight — 
one  that  irked  him  more  than  the  prospect  of  many 
Long  Marston  charges. 

"  You  will  have  Dame  Cromwell  and  my  four  daugh- 
ters— it  is  not  likely  that  Grandam  Bouchier  will  con- 
sent to  leave  the  Tithe  House,  but  as  to  that,  no  matter — 
the  serving-maids  look  after  her.  The  Lady  Molly  also 
must  go  with  you.    I  shall  explain  my  wish  to  her,  and 

194 


A  LITTLE  ESCORT  DUTY  195 

Doctor  Fisher  hath  been  wearying  me  with  a  certain 
Huguenot  and  his  daughter,  to  whom  my  Lord  hath 
given  employment." 

"  I  know  them,  Jacques  the  Wassailer  and  Nefia  la 
Fain."    This  time  Cromwell  paid  attention. 

"  Ah,  you  know  them — how  so  ?  " 

"  I  took  Doctor  Roy  Lorraine  to  the  Frenchman,  who 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  die  on  Isle  Jatte  from  marsh  fever, 
and  the  girl  saved  my  life  at  Gedney  Hill  when  we  cap- 
tured Dick  Lucy." 

The  Lieutenant-General  darted  a  look  at  Hal  which 
searched  his  soul,  but  the  young  captain's  conscience 
was  so  much  at  rest  that  he  did  not  even  observe  the 
scrutiny.  Slowly  Cromwell's  eyes  returned  after  taking 
in  Hal  from  head  to  foot,  weighing  his  words  and 
peculiar  usefulness,  and  laying  out  future  work  for  him 
to  do. 

He  nodded  his  head  with  the  grave  sententiousness  of 
an  elder. 

"  Look,"  he  said,  "  you  are  now  one  of  my  senior 
Captains  and  I  look  for  an  example.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  I  have  a  service  to  be  performed  so  difificult  and 
dangerous  that  whosoever  satisfies  me  and  returns  alive 
shall  not  have  to  wait  for  his  colonelcy." 

Hal  flushed  hotly.  He  had  not  dared  to  acknowledge 
even  to  himself  that  this  was  his  thought  by  day  and 
night.  But  he  was  loyal  to  those  who  had  been  loyal  to 
him.  "  I  would  rather,"  he  said,  "  serve  as  Captain  to 
the  Hog  Lane  Troop  till  the  end  of  the  war,  than  leave 
them  behind  to  command  other  troops  who  do  not  know 
me " 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  remember — '  under  Captain  Ludlow  and 
no  other,  with  Colonel  Cromwell  and  no  other ' — I 
know  your  articles  of  association.  But  pray  remember, 
young  man,  that  the  Parliament  cannot  be  dictated  to 
twice." 

"  Nothing   shall    stand    in    the    way    of    the    service, 


196  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

sir,"  said  Hal,  "  but  I  shall  not  do  it  for  the  reward's 
sake." 

He  was  in  hopes  that  the  General  might  there  and  then 
tell  him  the  nature  of  the  service.  Cromwell  divined  the 
unspoken  question  and  shook  his  head  a  little  grimly 
with  the  words,  "  All  in  good  time,  young  man,  when  I 
have  need  I  will  send  for  you.  Then  will  be  the  time  to 
put  spurs  to  your  horse." 

"  Hereward  needs  no  spurring,  General,"  Hal  said 
proudly;  "  he  is  as  keen  as  myself." 

The  procession  which  Hal  conducted  to  Danbury,  a 
healthy  spot  within  riding  distance  of  Westminster,  re- 
sembled a  royal  progress.  His  father  had  offered  his 
own  coach,  a  huge,  unwieldy,  but  comfortable  vehicle, 
with  wheels  as  broad  as  those  of  a  wood  merchant's 
"  jankar,"  and  quite  as  roomy  inside  as  an  average  cot- 
tage. It  was  drawn  by  six  stout  horses,  while  as  many 
more  could  be  attached  by  chains  and  cordage  in  bogs 
and  sloughs,  or  where  the  hills  were  steep  and  difficult. 

Hal  detached  Loud  Tom  Christopher  with  his  Boreham 
following  to  ride  on  ahead  and  make  arrangements  for 
shelter  and  provisions  along  the  road.  Hal  went  slowly, 
not  more  than  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  in  a  day,  because 
Dame  Cromwell,  no  hardened  traveller,  was  unhappy 
without  her  honest  three  meals  a  day,  and  what  was 
sometimes  more  difficult  to  obtain — quiet  for  a  siesta 
of  an  hour  in  the  afternoon. 

Hal  solved  this  last  difficulty  by  constructing  a  plank 
couch  within  the  coach,  requisitioning  a  feather  bed,  and 
setting  a  guard — a  duty  which  was  popular  enough,  for 
Dame  Cromwell  always  woke  up  in  her  most  pleasant 
and  generous  mood.  And  the  well-advised  youth  of  Hog 
Lane,  though  they  freely  gave  their  lives  for  the  husband, 
were  not  above  accepting  a  little  of  the  wife's  money. 
Moreover,  they  earned  it.  For  the  road,  roughly  mended 
with  masses  of  earth  and  stone  and  even  trunks  of  trees, 


A  LITTrE  ESCORT  DUTY  197 

often  taxed  the  united  skill  of  Hog  Lane  to  conduct  their 
charge  to  the  next  stopping-place. 

Dame  Cromwell  kept  Bridget  and  the  little  girls  with 
her  in  the  coach,  but  Lady  Molly,  who  had  had  experi- 
ence, refused  to  set  foot  within,  and  as  she  could  not  be 
left  quite  alone  among  the  troop,  Mistress  Bess,  nothing 
loath,  was  told  off  to  ride  with  her. 

Never  had  late  August  been  more  magnificent.  The 
still  hot  days,  resplendent  with  sunshine,  but  cooled  by  a 
slight  breeze  out  of  the  north,  succeeded  each  other  day 
after  day  and  week  after  week. 

In  the  Parliament  army  it  was  called  "  Marston  Moor 
weather,"  and  sometimes  "  Rupert's  bane." 

In  the  rear  of  the  cavalcade,  as  humbly  and  as  unob- 
trusively as  possible,  Jacques  the  Wassailer  rode  a  cream- 
coloured  pony  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  Doctor 
Peter  Fisher,  along  with  a  copy  of  Calvin's  Institutions 
printed  in  the  French  language.  The  theologian  accom- 
panied the  whole  with  so  detailed  and  rigorously  logical 
a  Benediction  that  Bess  Cromwell  (who  heard  it)  said 
that  it  might  well  provide  even  the  Almighty  Himself 
with  matter  for  consideration  at  His  leisure. 

Had  this  speech  been  repeated  to  the  young  lady's 
father  it  is  probable  that  she  would  have  remained  upon 
bread  and  water  in  her  chamber  at  the  Tithe  House 
instead  of  trotting  on  ahead  of  the  troop  with  hair 
streaming  in  the  wind,  tempting  Lady  Molly  to  similar 
follies. 

Hal  often  dropped  behind  to  see  the  Wassailer,  for  he 
was  no  respecter  of  persons  (a  certain  Oliver  Cromwell 
excepted).  He  loved  the  old  man's  rambling  talk  of 
white  limestone  hills,  scented  with  thyme  and  romarin, 
of  wondrous  high  heavens  sweltering  in  light,  a  world 
still,  blue,  and  mild,  the  sea  one  sapphire,  and  all  day 
and  every  day  the  cool  wind  at  its  appointed  hour  singing 
arnong  the  cordages.  It  was  good  hearing,  and  the 
home-keeping  Hal,  all  whose  life  had  been  love  and  war, 


198  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

with  some  taste  of  books  from  his  brief  days  at  college, 
set  himself  to  picture  the  wild  sea-board  of  Provenge 
which  (said  the  Wassailer)  was  Italian  or  Spanish — and 
still  more  African — anything  indeed  but  French. 

"  But  you  are  French?  "  Hal  objected. 

"  I  speak  French,  but  I  am  Latin  by  race,  and  French 
is  not  my  mother  tongue,  but  another  richer  and  better 
for  those  who  understand  it,  as  all  do  between  Genoa 
and  Barcelona,  whether  they  be  Catalans,  Provengals, 
or  Ligurians." 

Hal  with  a  natural  (as  well  as  a  cultivated)  taste  in 
feminine  beauty  listened  while  he  watched  Nefia  la  Fain 
managing  a  wild  troop  horse,  sitting  astride  the  saddle, 
booted  and  spurred,  wearing  the  red  coat  and  white 
badge  of  the  Eastern  Association  and  armed  at  all  points 
like  one  of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop. 

Somehow  she  had  managed  to  make  good  interest  with 
Zered  who  winked  at  the  masquerade,  and  Hog  Lane,  in 
consideration  of  the  high  Puritan  standing  of  the  Was- 
sailer and  also  agreeing  in  the  main  with  Milton  as  to  the 
flighty  irresponsibility  of  women,  permitted  her  to  follow 
the  troop  with  an  indifference  which  was  almost  con- 
temptuous. 

Nefia  however  had  a  serious  purpose  in  thus  arraying 
herself.  She  knew  that  the  uniform  of  his  troop  was  dear 
to  the  heart  of  Captain  Hal  and  she  judged,  not  without 
cause,  that  it  would  give  him  pleasure  to  see  her  wearing 
the  badges  of  his  corps  in  which  she  had,  hov/ever  irregu- 
larly, early  enrolled  herself. 

Of  course  Hal  would  not  have  suffered  such  a  thing  in 
Ely,  or  where  Hog  Lane  had  to  range  with  other  troops. 
But  out  on  the  open  road,  with  nothing  to  do  but  escort 
ladies,  the  matter  was  altogether  dififerent.  The  figure 
of  the  young  girl  took  on  a  new  beauty.  She  rode  better 
than  scout-master  Wishart — almost  as  well,  he  admitted, 
as  he  rode  himself,  which  was  no  slight  thing  for  Master 
Hal  to  allow. 


A  LITTLE  ESCORT  DUTY  199 

It  was  moreover,  he  owned,  a  pleasant  sight,  and 
together  with  the  conversation,  always  instructive  and 
agreeable  of  Jacques  the  Wassailer,  brought  Captain  Hal 
Ludlow  very  often  to  the  rear  of  his  cavalcade,  especially 
on  long  up  grades,  where  trace  horses  were  put  to,  and 
the  men  dismounting,  eased  girths,  loosened  straps,  and 
walked  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  or  more  to  rest 
their  horses.  At  such  times  Hal  would  often  put  Here- 
ward  under  charge  of  his  groom  and  walk  between  the 
small-booted  foot  with  its  silver  spur  (his  own  contribu- 
tion) and  the  Wassailer 's  cream-coloured  pony.  He 
talked  so  frankly  that  Nefia  would  laugh  heartily  and  then 
be  astonished  at  the  sound  of  her  own  voice.  She  had 
attracted  his  attention,  and,  wonder  of  wonders,  he  was 
talking  to  her  as  gaily  as  he  ever  did  with  Mistress  Bess 
Cromwell  or  the  Lady  Molly. 

She  began  to  tell  herself  fairy  stories.  She  was  still 
the  little  gipsy  girl  abandoned  by  the  gipsies,  but  some- 
how or  other  (her  mind  glided  lightly  over  particulars) 
she  had  become  a  fairy  princess.  She  had  delivered  a 
fairy  prince  and  now  that  prince,  in  gladness  and  grati- 
tude, was  walking  bareheaded  by  her  bridle-rein.  Then 
Nefia  would  swing  her  foot  over,  smooth  down  her  brief 
kirtle,  and  for  the  space  of  a  mile  or  two  (as  long  as 
Captain  Hal  remained  by  her  side),  she  would  ride  as 
became  a  princess  of  the  ancient  house  of  Bois  Dor- 
mant guarding  the  litter  of  True  Thomas  and  attended 
by  an  exceedingly  hard-featured  troop  of  elves  and  fays 
all  in  steel  "  pots  "  and  the  red  coats  of  the  Eastern 
Association. 

When  Captain  Hal  talked  to  True  Thomas  (that  is,  to 
the  Wassailer),  Nefia  liked  it  quite  as  well  as  when  he 
told  her  stories  of  the  herding  and  sweeping  operations 
of  South  Lincolnshire  when  he  rid  that  district  of  the 
Candishers. 

For  when  he  talked  to  the  Wassailer,  she  had  time  to 
continue  her  tales  to  herself.     She  imagined  conversa- 


200  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

tions  such  as  she  had  read  in  books,  but  decided  very  soon 
that  her  fairy  prince  would  not  throw  himself  at  her  feet 
and  cry,  "  My  life,  fortune,  and  crown  are  thine,  most 
adorable  Princess !  "  She  had  heard  with  what  sharp- 
ness he  had  chid  Bess  Cromwell  and  the  Lady  Molly 
for  riding  too  far  ahead,  and  she  recognised  that  it  was 
thus  that  a  man  ought  to  speak.  She  liked  it  better  so, 
and  she  made  her  horse  curvet  and  rear,  she  even  put 
him  to  a  gallop,  swung  him  round  and  reined  up  again 
beside  the  slow-padding  ministerial  pony  which  carried 
True  Thomas,  with  a  kind  of  wilful  defiance  in  her  man- 
ner, at  once  defiant  and  provocative.  But  Captain  Hal 
only  watched  her  with  an  expression  of  amusement  and 
the  desired  reprimand  did  not  come. 

Still  she  was  content,  for  each  time  that  he  rode  away 
to  take  the  head  of  the  column  and  assure  himself  of  the 
well-being  of  Dame  Cromwell  and  her  brood  drowsing 
and  jolting  inside  the  richly  padded  coach  of  the  Parlia- 
mentary Commissioner,  she  repeated  over  and  over  to 
herself,  "  He  has  found  me,  I  am  no  longer  alone — my 
prince — my  prince  1 " 

The  incidents  of  the  route  amused  Neiia,  and  to  these 
she  adapted  herself  with  admirable  readiness,  for  she  was 
a  true  daughter  of  the  road. 

The  scattering  of  the  King's  forces  in  the  North  and 
the  Draconian  laws  enforced  within  London  city  had 
brought  out  a  great  many  plunderers  who  watched  for 
ill-guarded  coaches  and  weak  bands  of  merchants.  The 
Essex  marshes  where  the  road  from  Cambridge  passed 
southward  harboured  many  of  these,  and  gave  occasion 
to  an  incident,  often  afterwards  told  in  Hog  Lane  and 
throughout  all  the  north  bounds  of  Essex  with  applause 
and  glee. 

It  chanced  one  rare  fine  day  towards  eventide  that  the 
cavalcade  had  come  to  a  long  and  difficult  ascent  a  few 
leagues  from  Maldon,  Hal  had  ordered  a  half-dozen 
men  to  strip  and  corduroy  the  road  with  branches  and 


A  LITTLE  ESCORT  DUTY  201 

brushwood,  before  attempting  the  long  pull  up  the  slope. 
Then  he  had  allowed  the  rest  of  Hog  Lane  to  dismount 
in  one  of  the  sunk  roads  common  to  the  neighbourhood, 
where  they  sat  down  each  man  by  his  horse's  bridle  and 
shared  the  provender  they  had  brought  with  them.  Now 
the  sunk  road  chanced  to  be  within  eye-shot  of  an  out- 
post of  the  Maltover  Troop  (captained  by  Guy  Maltover, 
a  deserter  from  Lord  Essex's  horse).  The  coach  was  a 
large  one  and  in  manifest  difficulties.  The  men  in  the 
grey  shirts  who  were  labouring  with  rope  and  mattock 
were  evidently  peasants  and  would  run  at  the  first  alarm. 
There  were  rich  ladies  on  fine  horses,  and  some  great 
moneyed  magnate  would  doubtless  pay  dear  to  get  them 
back. 

"  Come  on,  then,  Maltover  men,  Standerton  men — all 
who  love  loot  or  love  a  lass !  "  So  from  the  shadow  of 
the  woods  where  they  had  lain  all  day  in  hiding,  sucking 
straws  and  eating  wild  berries,  the  Maltover  gang  came 
down  yelling.  They  hooted,  thereby  meaning  to  put  to 
flight  the  yokels  at  the  trace  ropes.  A  few  bullets  would 
settle  the  outriders,  and  that  great  coach,  the  finest  ever 
seen  on  the  Marshes,  packed  with  riches  and  ransomable 
grandees,  was  their  own.  They  arrived  in  a  whirlwind 
of  noise  and  pother,  Guy  the  renegade  at  their  head. 

The  coach  was  surrounded.  A  huge  hairy  varlet  had 
his  fingers  on  the  handle  and  was  feasting  his  eyes  on  the 
ladies  and  children  within.  He  reached  over  to  snatch  a 
bag  which  Dame  Cromwell  had  kept  upon  her  knees,  but 
at  that  moment,  out  of  nowhere  in  particular,  armed 
Ironsides  in  full  panoply  rode  them  down  before  they  had 
time  to  turn  their  horses.  Hog  Lane  gave  no  quarter  to 
these  plundering  wretches,  and  though  they  were  not 
half  their  numbers,  when  they  pulled  up  to  return  to- 
wards the  coach,  Maltover  and  Standerton  had  ceased 
to  exist.  Renegade  captain  and  cruel  lieutenant  lay  on 
the  ground,  honourably  cleft  by  the  steel  which  had 
chased  Rupert  across  the  moor  of  Long  Marston. 


202  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Hog  Lane  laughed.  For  the  idea  of  a  gang  of  cut- 
throat plunderers  of  their  own  free  will  charging  a  full 
troop  of  seasoned  Ironsides  seemed  to  them  humorous 
beyond  measure.  But  Hal  and  Zered  bade  the  girls  ride 
on  and  keep  their  horses  near  the  coach  windows  on 
either  side  till  they  had  left  behind  the  scattered  relics 
of  miscellaneous  rascaldom  which  bore  too  eloquent 
witness  to  the  power  of  the  Puritan  sword-arm. 

Such  was  the  adventure  of  the  Sunken  Road,  long  a 
merry  jest  among  the  Roundheads,  but  somewhat  less  so 
to  the  slashed  and  haggard  survivors  of  the  renegade's 
band,  who  painfully  dragged  themselves  into  various 
woods  and  shelters,  a  very  few  to  get  well  and  plunder 
anew,  but  most  to  die  of  cold  and  exposure.  For  Hog 
Lane  had  fulfilled  the  Scripture  by  making  the  way  of 
transgressors  hard  indeed. 


XXII 
WITHOUT  ARE  WOLVES 

THEY  were  approaching  Danbury,  and  Hal  was 
riding  in  front  with  Lady  Molly  and  Elizabeth 
Cromwell,  when  from  the  gate  of  the  Barns  of 
Boreham  an  escort  of  well-mounted  and  equipped  gentle- 
men rode  out  to  meet  them. 

My  Lord  Woodham  Walter  had  taken  some  pains  to 
have  the  best  blood  of  Essex  there  to  welcome  his  some- 
time prodigal  daughter  back  to  a  reorganised  and  purified 
Danbury. 

Young  Walter  Barrington,  son  of  the  county  member 
and  a  most  promising  youth,  had  given  three  long  weeks 
to  undoing  the  work  of  old  Hepburn,  the  Scots  engineer. 
Ditches  had  been  filled  up  and  planted.  Earthworks 
levelled  and  made  into  gravel  walks.  He  had  brought 
many  thousands  of  plants  from  his  father's  nurseries  at 
Colchester.  A  score  of  the  finest  young  men  of  the  shire, 
all  of  ancient  family  and  agreeable  person,  had  come  out 
with  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter  to  bring  home  his 
daughter  and  to  welcome  the  wife  and  daughters  of  the 
new  Parliamentary  General,  whom  Marston  Moor  had 
made  the  idol  of  one  half  of  England  and  the  bogey  of 
the  rest. 

Hal  Ludlow,  after  a  brief  salute  to  my  Lord,  fell  back 
to  his  troop.  His  steel  cap  and  war-worn  uniform  were 
more  in  place  there,  and  he  left  the  presentations  and 
pretty  speeches  to  be  made  without  him. 

Doubtless  something  of  jealousy  mixed  with  this 
abstemiousness,  but  there  was  in  it  something  noble  as 
well.    Why  were  there  here  so  many  bold  young  men  who 

203 


204?  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSmES 

might  be  organising,  commanding  companies  and  troops, 
merely  riding  at  ease,  tricked  out  and  befeathered  like 
so  many  idle  cavaliers? 

He  vented  this  bitter  feeling  upon  Zered,  who,  as  was 
usual  with  him,  had  an  answer  ready. 

"  Not  at  all  surprising,"  said  Zered  Tuby,  in  that 
keen,  high-pitched  preaching  voice  which  had  carried 
conviction  during  his  anti-Zachary  crusade  in  the  old 
Hog  Lane.  "  Do  you  not  see,  Captain,  that  in  these 
counties,  and  I  suppose  everywhere  except  in  Lancashire 
and  the  West,  the  Parliament,  disposing  of  money  and 
favours,  took  over  the  official,  his  sons  and  his  nephews, 
his  ox  and  his  ass,  and  everything  that  was  his." 

"  I  know,"  said  Hal,  peevishly  enough,  "  but  look  at 
these  fellows.  Why,  Colonel  Cromwell,  with  a  month's 
drill,  could  make  an  excellent  troop  of  them — of  all,  that 
is,  whom  he  had  not  hanged  or  sent  home.  And  what 
good  are  they  now?  They  cannot  sit  on  committee  and 
advise.  They  are  too  young  for  Parliament,  even  sup- 
posing their  fathers  did  not  block  the  way.  Yet  they  are 
tall  young  fellows  who,  if  they  were  of  the  King's  party, 
would  be  captains  under  Hopeton,  or  better  still  privates 
in  Rupert's  horse?" 

No  wonder  Hal  regarded  the  laughing  group  about 
Lady  Molly  with  sullen  and  malevolent  eye. 

"  I  wish  I  had  these  same  pretty  gentlemen  in  my 
company,"  he  growled ;  "  I  could  find  them  other  em- 
ployment for  their  leisure  moments." 

Zered  knew  well  enough  that  his  officer  had  been 
"  broken  "  while  in  the  Slepe  Troop  for  *'  petticoating  " — 
indeed,  what  was  there  which  could  long  remain  un- 
known in  such  a  close  commonwealth  as  the  original 
"  Tawny,"  or  Ironside  companies?  But  he  allowed  noth- 
ing of  his  secret  amusement  to  appear  on  his  countenance. 
He  merely  continued  his  explanation  more  posedly  than 
before. 

"  Official  class  propagates  officials,"  Zered's  eyes  were 


WITHOUT  ARE  WOLVES  205 

less  complimentary  than  his  tongue,  "  so  you  must  not 
blame  them  if,  while  waiting  for  dead  men's  shoes,  they 
flaunt  their  town-bought  finery  somewhat  too  garishly." 

"  But  if  they  are  town  bred  and  official  born,  I  more !  " 
broke  in  Hal,  unsatisfied  and  truculent,  "  What  are  these 
little  justices  and  district  committee  men  to  my  father, 
for  twenty  years  adviser  to  the  Exchequer  and  Clerk  of 
Requests?    HI  could  fight,  so  surely  can  they!  " 

And  Captain  Hal  showed  his  ill-humour  by  a  tug  at  the 
reins,  which  pampered  Hereward  at  once  resented  by 
lashing  out  behind. 

"  Easy,  my  Captain,"  said  Zered  soothingly ;  "  all 
)^oung  roosters  cannot  grow  spurs  and  become  cocks  of 
the  main.    But  here  comes  my  Lord." 

Hal  saluted  the  great  man  with  respect.  He  was  his 
father's  friend,  and,  what  had  still  greater  weight,  he  was 
Lady  Molly's  father. 

"  Why,  sir,  have  your  Marston  Moors  laurels  made 
you  so  bashful  that  you  will  not  wait  to  receive  our 
thanks?" 

"  I  thought,  my  Lord,"  said  Hal  readily,  "  that  you 
and  your  friends  might  wish  to  inspect  the  Seventh 
Troop."  And  he  wheeled  Hereward,  so  that  my  Lord 
might  have  a  good  look  at  the  steadfast  front  of  Hog 
Lane,  which  Zered  had  drawn  out  in  array  of  battle. 
Very  grim  and  dour  looked  Hog  Lane  under  the  gaze 
of  the  Peer  of  Parliament  and  his  finely  attired  com- 
pany. 

"  I  would  little  like  to  meet  them  when  their  blood  is 
up,"  said  my  Lord,  thinking  to  show  himself  compli- 
mentary. But  Hal,  who  at  that  moment  could  take 
nothing  well,  answered  that  perhaps  Hog  Lane  was  most 
to  be  dreaded  when  most  humorous.  Whereupon  he 
related  the  story  of  the  renegade  and  his  attack  upon  the 
coach.  Hal  did  not  tell  the  story  well.  He  was  too 
sulky,  but  his  very  sulks  gave  pith  and  dourness  to  the 
facts. 


206  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Rob  the  Ironsides !  "  cried  my  Lord,  clapping  his 
hands.  "  What  will  Speaker  Lenthall  and  Dr.  Prynne 
say — a  hundred  rake-hells  knaves  to  cry,  '  Stand  and 
deliver '  to  the  veterans  of  Marston  Moor !  I  hope  you 
have  brought  them  to  us — your  prisoners,  I  mean.  There 
are  several  justices  of  the  peace  present  to-day,  and  we 
can  empanel  a  jury." 

Hal  stared  with  a  bewildered  expression  at  the  man. 
Could  he  be  jesting?  But  my  Lord  called  two  of  the 
local  squires.  Cook  and  Calthrop. 

"  You  will  act  with  me — it  seems  there  are  some 
rascals  to  try."  And  he  glanced  towards  Jacques  the 
Wassailer  and  Neha  la  Fain,  waiting  patiently  in  the 
rear  of  the  troop.  My  Lord  Woodham  Walter  told  his 
two  friends  of  the  renegade's  mistake,  and  they  also 
laughed,  though  not  so  heartily,  for  they  resented  the 
coming  of  General  Cromwell's  men  into  their  county  as 
a  kind  of  coercion. 

"  Essex  money  for  Essex  men  "  had  been  their  answer 
once  when  Colonel  Cromwell  had  asked  them  for  their 
share  of  the  subscriptions  due  from  the  seven  Associated 
Counties. 

"  Wait  a  little  till  I  come,"  Cromwell  had  retorted, 
"  and  I  shall  take  Essex  men  and  Essex  money 
too." 

They  feared  that  that  time  had  come. 

Lord  Woodham  Walter  waved  his  hand  with  the  large 
gesture  he  used  when  leading  the  House  of  Lords. 

"Let  us  see  your  rascals,"  he  said.  "  I  caught  just  a 
glimpse  of  them,  but  I  would  fain  speak  with  them  face 
to  face.  Such  daring  knaves  one  does  not  meet  with 
every  day !  " 

"  There  are  no  prisoners,"  said  Captain  Hal,  a  trifle 
impatiently.  "  The  Seventh  Troop  does  not  take  prison- 
ers of  that  class.  You  will  find  the  rascals  over  yonder 
in  the  bottom  of  the  valley  and  scattered  along  the  slopes 
of  Sunk  Lane  Hill.    But  they  are  in  no  state  to  be  tried 


WITHOUT  ARE  WOLVES  207 

by  jury.  Not  one  of  them  could  plead — no,  not  before 
a  Committee  of  both  Houses." 

A  clang  of  bitter  irony  had  in  spite  of  himself  crept  into 
Hal  Ludlow's  speech,  and  the  peer  started  at  the  sound. 
It  was  the  first  authentic  ring  of  the  new  spirit  of  justice 
by  armed  force  which  was  to  end  the  lies  of  Charles  at 
Oxford,  and  clear  Westminster  Hall  of  the  plague  of 
vain  babblers  which  already  had  begun  to  infest  it. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Hal,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that 
you  slaughtered  them  all  in  cold  blood  without  a  trial  ?  " 

"  They  had  had  a  good  trial — of  strength,"  said  Hal 
grimly,  "  and  all  that  I  regretted  was  the  waste  of  good 
cut-and-thrust  on  such  paltry  rascals." 

"  I  presume  you  had  your  orders,"  said  my  Lord, 
"  otherwise  you  took  a  somewhat  serious  responsibility 
upon  yourself." 

"  That  I  am  quite  willing  to  take,"  said  Hal,  with  the 
same  irritating  ring  of  authority  which  had  grated  on  the 
peer's  respect  for  law-and-order.  "  General  Cromwell 
sent  me  hither  to  assume  responsibility." 

My  Lord  turned  sharply  and  rode  away,  muttering  to 
himself,  "  Cromwell  and  his  Captains  take  a  great  deal 
too  much  upon  themselves.  If  we  do  not  look  to  it,  they 
will  put  us  all  under  foot — Lords,  Commons,  and  Civil 


powers 


And  though  he  did  not  at  the  time  believe  it  himself 
he  never  spoke  a  truer  word. 

When  the  cavalcade  arrived  at  Danbury  Towers,  the 
retainers  of  my  Lord  were  turned  out  to  welcome  his 
guests — among  whom,  however,  he  did  not  appear  to 
number  Hal  and  his  company  of  Hog  Laners.  Dame 
Elizabeth  was  received  in  front  of  the  gates  by  an  ele- 
gantly equipped  guard  in  lace  cloaks,  velvet  knee- 
breeches  of  my  Lord's  colours  (vermilion  and  puce),  and 
what  provoked  the  secret  laughter  of  Hog  Lane,  dress 
swords  at  their  sides  in  velvet  scabbards. 


208  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

The  Ironsides  were  evidently  expected  to  go  no  further. 

"  We  are  my  Lord's  guards,"  said  a  young  man,  scented 
and  ringleted  like  a  girl ;  "  you  can  have  no  passage 
here." 

"  We  are  come  by  General  Cromwell's  orders  to  be 
responsible  for  the  defence  of  the  place,  and  of  the  ladies 
whom  we  have  brought  hither.    Deny  us  at  your  peril !  " 

Hal's  voice  rang  out  dangerously.  He  was  not  in  a 
pretty  humour,  and  a  curious  chill  traversed  the  marrow 
of  the  fine  young  man  with  the  velvet-sheathed  sword  of 
office  set  so  sprucely  at  his  side.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
rich  city  merchant  to  whom  the  exchequer  had  more 
than  once  been  much  beholden. 

"  Take  care  what  you  do,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I 
would  have  you  know  that  I  am  my  Lord  Woodham 
Walter's  secretary !  " 

"  Forward  there,  Seventh,"  said  Hal,  "  and  do  you, 
Mr.  Secretary,  come  with  me.  If  you  stay  you  may  get 
hurt." 

So  Hog  Lane  defiled  two  by  two  into  the  gate  of  the 
Towers,  and  soon  filled  the  courtyard  with  the  clangour 
of  champing  bits  and  ironshod  hoofs.  The  delicately 
attired  young  men  who  had  challenged  their  right  of  way 
had  been  driven  against  the  wall  by  the  mere  scour  of 
the  running  tide. 

*'  Now  find  me  stabling  for  my  horses,  and  sleeping 
accommodation  for  my  men !  "  commanded  Captain  Hal. 
"  Your  master?  I  will  charge  myself  with  your  master — 
only  as  you  value  your  neck,  do  as  I  bid  you  now !  " 

*'  I  know  not  a  great  deal  about  this  matter,"  said  the 
perplexed  youth,  who  wished  himself  safe  back  in  the 
offices  of  Whitehall ;  "  the  grooms  have  always  attended 
to  such  things." 

"  Then  call  a  groom,"  thundered  Hal,  "  my  men  can- 
not wait  all  night  while  my  Lord's  underlings  find  their 
wits.    Ho,  there,  a  groom,  I  say !  " 

What  might  have  happened  it  is  difficult  to  imagine, 


WITHOUT  ARE  WOLVES  209 

if  Alured  Promise  had  not  slipped  from  his  saddle  and 
run  like  a  terrier  which  tries  one  rat-hole  after  another  in 
the  ranges  of  stabling.  At  last  he  brought  out  an  ancient 
man  in  withered  moleskins,  bespattered  from  head  to 
heel. 

"  Ah,"  cried  Hal,  "  we  have  left  behind  the  velvet  and 
dress-swords,  the  bow-knots  and  the  ribbands.  So  much 
the  better.  We  shall  chance  to  get  some  sense  out  of  this 
fellow.    Now,  Gaffer,  show  us  the  best  stables." 

"  They  be  all  filled  with  gentlemen's  fine  horses,"  said 
the  old  man,  but  he  led  the  way  notwithstanding.  Hal 
glanced  within.  He  knew  that  four  hundred  horses 
had  been  stabled  at  Danbury  Towers  in  the  days  of 
Rupert  and  the  Brown  Octobers. 

"  Show  me  the  cavalry  quarters,  sirrah,"  said  Hal, 
"  where  the  Prince's  men  put  up  their  horses." 

"  Lord  now,  what  be  oi  thinkin'  upon,"  said  the  old 
man,  slapping  his  knee ;  "  of  course,  being  soldier-men — 
'tis  the  great  bam  ye  are  seeking.  Brave  comfortable 
quarters  be  the  great  barn — yes,  yes,  as  ever  was." 

So  the  doors  of  the  great  barn  were  thrown  open  and 
there  were  the  rough  mangers,  the  whitewashed  walls, 
the  huge  fodder  racks  leading  from  the  lofts  above,  and 
the  tiles  laid  down  for  sluicing  purposes  on  either  side. 

"Make  yourselves  comfortable,  lads,"  Hal  called  out; 
"  this  is  good  enough  for  us."  He  had  just  come  down 
the  ladder  from  the  loft.  "  With  excellent  bedroom 
accommodation  above  stairs  !  " 

And  he  went  off  to  arrange  about  supplies. 

He  was  passing  through  the  court  when  my  Lord 
Woodham  Walter  looked  out  of  a  first-floor  window. 
His  face  was  flushed  and  angry  and  he  spoke  hastily,  his 
words  tumbling  over  each  other.  The  secretary  had  been 
talking  to  him. 

"  Go  away,  I  cannot  have  you  here,"  he  shouted ; 
"  get  away  at  once.  You  will  find  quarters  for  the  night 
at  Boreham  Barns." 


210  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Sir,"  said  Hal  coolly,  "  I  do  not  discuss  my  instruc- 
tions by  bawling  through  windows.  All  I  have  to  say  is 
that  I  call  upon  you  in  General  Cromwell's  name  to 
supply  me  with  three  cooked  meals  a  day  for  fifty-three 
men,  for  which  I  shall  give  you  daily  a  requisition  in  the 
morning  and  a  quittance  in  the  evening." 

Which  having  said,  he  went  about  his  business. 

The  Hog  Laners  made  themselves  as  comfortable  as 
possible,  chatting  outside  upon  the  well-kerb  and  scat- 
tered about  wooden  benches.  As  the  twilight  deepened 
they  saw  the  lights  being  kindled  in  the  banqueting  hall 
which  ran  along  one  entire  side  of  the  court.  My  Lord 
was  entertaining  a  great  company  to  dinner.  And  Hog 
Lane  noted  with  surprise  and  indignation  that  its  Captain 
had  not  been  invited. 

They  waited,  however,  patiently  for  their  own  supper, 
content  that  the  great  folks  should  be  served  before 
them,  but  jealous  also  for  the  honourable  standing  of 
their  leader,  and  prepared  to  back  him  in  any  quarrel 
which  might  arise. 

Hal  paced  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the  great  barn,  be- 
tween the  winnowing  floor  at  the  windy  south-east  cor- 
ner and  the  great  door  of  the  faggot-house  where  the 
winter  fuel  was  beginning  to  be  stored. 

He  raged  incessantly,  sometimes  in  speeches  which 
would  have  cost  a  man  of  the  troop  the  statutory  twelve- 
pence  a  word.  But  Zered,  who  alone  heard,  was  far  too 
anxious  to  quiet  ,him  to  pay  any  attention  to  oaths, 
either  broad  or  minced. 

"  Let  me  go,"  he  pleaded ;  "  no  man  in  anger  is  fit  to 
carry  out  a  delicate  negotiation.  If  it  were  not  for  the 
ladies,  I  would  leave  it  to  you.  But  remember  our 
General's  wife  and  four  daughters  are  here,  besides  there 
is  my  Lady  Molly " 

"  I  care  not,"  interrupted  Hal,  who  was  indeed  hardly 
responsible  for  his  words  or  actions ;  "  I  want  provender 
for  my  men.    I  have  asked  for  it  in  my  General's  name. 


WITHOUT  ARE  WOLVES  211 

I  have  waited  two  hours,  and  I  tell  you,  Zered  Tuby,  I 
shall  wait  no  longer.  I  will  see  my  Lord  and  demand 
an  explanation,  if  we  have  to  force  the  doors  with  musket 
butts." 

"  Captain,"  said  Zered  soothingly,  "  we  all  love  you 
and  will  follow  you  through  hotter  places  than  the  Moor 
Lane  at  Long  Marston.  You  can  depend  on  the  Seventh 
Troop,  but  you  also  must  trust  it,  and  yet  more  you  must 
trust  a  grizzled  old  fellow  who  loves  you.  There  must  be 
no  brawling  before  the  ladies.  It  would  do  us  small 
honour.  Let  me  take  a  dozen  men  unarmed,  and  I  war- 
rant you  I  shall  bring  back  supper  for  all  the  troop." 

Zered  had  his  way.  He  chose  with  care  a  dozen  of  the 
spriteliest  and  most  active  of  the  young  men,  as  carefully 
pruned  them  of  their  helmets,  breastplates,  and  weapons, 
whispered  some  private  instructions,  and  disappeared  in 
the  direction  of  the  kitchen. 

Here  he  found  the  cooks,  as  he  reported  afterwards, 
"  In  a  prodigious  pother."  Men  and  boys  hasting  to  and 
fro  from  the  banqueting  rooms  kept  the  place  in  a 
clamour.  "For  the  High  Table!  For  the  Long!  For 
the  Cross !  For  the  Gentlemen-in- Waiting !  "  they  cried, 
sometimes  snatching  dishes  to  which  they  had  no  right 
out  of  the  cooks'  very  hands.  Zered,  undertaking  the 
policing  of  this  turmoil,  cried,  "  Stand  back  there — ^faces 
to  the  wall — all  except  the  servants  of  the  High 
Table !  " 

And  to  emphasise  his  order  he  made  his  scabbard  ring 
on  the  stone  floor — for  he  alone  had  kept  his  full  equip- 
ment. 

The  London  valets  and  drawers  obeyed  mechanically. 
They  stood  with  their  noses  to  the  wall,  studying  the 
whitewash  most  attentively. 

"  Now  when  you  are  ready,  Cook,  serve  for  the  High 
Table!" 

The  waiters  rushed  to  seize  the  dishes  where,  on  the 
long  service  tables,  roast  and  stew,  beef,  mutton,  venison 


212  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

pasty,  and  fowls  both  wild  and  tame  were  planted  down 
in  smoking  rows. 

"  Now,  lads,  let  us  see  you  march — Alured,  ready  with 
the  lantern — the  others  help  yourselves  from  the  fork 
basket." 

Hog  Lane  armed  itself  with  that  highly  persuasive 
instrument,  a  two-pronged  fork, 

"  Face  about  there.  Take  up  the  dishes  and  follow 
the  lantern-bearer  out  at  the  kitchen  door." 

A  few  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  stairs  which  led  to 
the  banqueting  hall,  but  the  forks  in  the  willing  hands 
of  Hog  Lane  soon  brought  them  back  to  the  right  way. 

The  meats,  thus  borne  out  in  triumph,  were  served 
under  the  soft  glow  of  the  stars  upon  the  benches  in 
front  of  the  great  barn,  and  Hog  Lane  rejoiced,  though 
it  drank  only  pure  water  drawn  from  the  well  by  the 
strength  of  its  own  arms.  While  at  the  Great  Table  aloft 
knives  clattered  and  tongues  wagged  as  the  viands  dis- 
appeared. 

But  the  Middle,  Cross,  and  Gentlemen's  Hall  tables  sat 
glum  and  silent,  wondering  when  they  were  going  to  be 
served. 


XXIII 
GREAT  PAINS  TO  LITTLE  PURPOSE 

BUT  the  next  day  it  became  evident  that  the  disHke 
of  my  Lord  Woodham  Waher  extended  no  farther 
than  the  Captain  of  the  Seventh  Troop.  He  sent 
a  couple  of  foresters  to  conduct  the  Wassailer  and  his 
daughter  to  Osea  Island.  Breakfast,  also,  was  brought 
out  and  set  upon  tables  improvised  in  the  court.  A 
youUg  marmiton  (or  kitchen  servitor)  in  flat  white  cap 
of  linen,  white  smock  to  his  knees  and  wide  French 
"  slops,"  directed  the  manceuvres. 

To  him  Hal  paid  no  attention,  engrossed  in  writing  a 
letter  to  Cromwell  which  he  knew  must  be  sent  off  at 
once.  From  this  task  he  was  presently  distracted  by  the 
coming  of  the  Wassailer  and  Nefia  la  Fain.  They  were 
setting  out  for  Osea  Island,  and  there  Hal,  in  order  to 
have  peace  to  finish  his  letter,  promised  to  visit  them  as 
soon  as  he  was  settled  in  his  quarters. 

After  the  Wassailer  had  mounted  his  cream-coloured 
pony  and  ridden  away  with  the  foresters,  Neha  tarried 
behind.  Hal  fidgeted,  pen  in  hand.  At  last  the  girl 
broke  silence. 

"  She  does  it  pretty  poorly,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the 
white-bonneted  "  marmiton,"  under  whose  orders  the 
scullions  were  clearing  the  tables  after  breakfast. 

"Eh,  what  is  that  you  say?"  exclaimed  Hal,  turning 
bewildered  eyes  in  the  direction  of  Neha's  pointing  finger. 

"  You  do  not  mean  you  do  not  know  that  the  Lady 
Molly  has  come  among  your  men  in  masquerade !  How 
blind  men  are!  Do  you  not  see  how  she  has  her  hair 
turned  up  under  her  cap  behind,  and  then  her  figure,  that 

213 


214.  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

is  never  a  boy's  figure.  It  would  not  deceive  any  woman 
for  a  moment.  Now  when  I  ride  as  a  boy,  neither  man 
nor  woman  shall  be  able  to  tell  the  difference."  And  she 
followed  her  adopted  father  without  once  turning  her 
head  or  crying  adieu. 

Yes,  now  when  he  came  to  notice,  the  slim  youth  in  the 
kitchener's  whites  was  without  doubt  the  Lady  Molly. 

Hal's  humour  was  instantly  restored.  He  threw  his 
pen  on  the  table,  slipped  the  unfinished  letter  into  the 
case  which  contained  the  troop  papers,  and  strode  across 
the  yard  to  thank  such  a  benefactress. 

"  Lady  Molly,"  he  said,  more  ceremoniously  than  was 
his  wont,  "  I  did  not  perceive  your  presence  amongst  us 
till  this  moment.  Though  the  costume  is  no  suitable  one 
for  your  father's  daughter,  I  owe  you  my  best  thanks." 

"  Oh,  the  ingratitude  of  man !  Now  I  think  it  is  rather 
pretty."  She  held  out  a  small  white-sandalled  foot, 
above  which  the  ill-fitting  slops  showed  a  few  inches  of 
shapely  ankle. 

"Pretty  enough,"  said  Captain  Hal,  softening;  "but 
if  your  father  knew,  Molly,  what  would  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  would  have  me  locked  in  my  room.  The  key 
would  be  in  his  pocket,  and  you  would  be  gaily  doing 
without  breakfast !  " 

"  But  some  of  these  underlings  will  be  sure  to  tell  him 
— if  only  to  curry  favour!  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Lady  Molly ;  "  the  others 
would  trample  the  life  out  of  any  tale-bearer.  I  am, 
you  see,  somewhat  popular  among  them." 

"  So  I  see,"  said  Hal  gravely ;  "  but  are  we  to  have  no 
food  save  what  you  manage  to  procure  us  by  opening  the 
buttery?" 

"  Oh,  no,  you  are  to  have  enough  till  a  messenger  can 
get  back  from  General  Cromwell." 

"  From  General  Cromwell !  " 

"  Yes,  he  left  early  this  morning,  carrying  letters  from 
Dame  Elizabeth  and  one  from  my  father,  asking  for  your 


GREAT  PAINS  TO  LITTLE  PURPOSE     215 

recall.  I  saw  it.  I  looked  over  his  shoulder  when  he  was 
writing." 

"  You  are  entirely  capable  of  it,"  said  Hal. 

"  Be  thankful  then,"  retorted  Molly ;  "  your  attitude, 
let  me  tell  you,  is  neither  grateful  nor  becoming.  But, 
it  is  entirely  v/hat  I  should  have  expected  of  Mr.  Senor 
Captain  Ludlow !  " 

She  gave  her  marmiton's  broad,  flat  bonnet  a  saucy 
cock,  and  strutted  away  in  a  transport  of  righteous  in- 
dignation. But  midway  she  turned,  and  running  back  to 
him  she  caught  him  by  the  embroidered  sleeve. 

"  Hal,"  she  said,  "  if  I  were  you  I  would  send  someone 
to  Ely  who  could  get  there  before  young  Calthrop !  " 

"  Thank  you,  Molly,"  said  Hal.  "  Indeed,  I  am  very 
much  of  your  mind." 

"  But  we  are  not  friends  for  all  that,"  she  explained, 
"  so  do  not  imagine  it." 

"  I  shall  keep  my  imagination  in  check,"  he  said 
calmly;  "and  now  if  you  will  kindly  be  gone,  I  shall 
finish  my  letter." 

"  Brute !  "  said  Lady  Molly,  and  went  within. 

In  half  an  hour  Zered,  with  an  escort  of  two  men,  was 
riding  towards  the  North.  At  first  Hal  had  been  un- 
willing to  let  him  go.  But  Zered  soon  showed  him  that  it 
would  be  wiser  to  send  someone  who  could  answer  the 
General's  questions — someone  who  knew  all  that  had 
taken  place,  who  knew  how  well  Hog  Lane  had  conducted 
itself — how  their  Captain  had  dealt  with  the  Renegade 
and  his  band,  and  how  entirely  without  excuse  a  quarrel 
had  been  forced  upon  him  by  my  Lord.  To  this  reasoning 
Hal  could  not  but  yield,  especially  as  he  knew  that  of  all 
the  Hog  Laners  no  one  but  Zered  would  be  able  to  speak 
to  Cromwell.  And  even  Zered  Tuby  admitted  that  it 
thickened  a  man's  tongue  and  dried  the  back  of  his 
throat  when  the  Colonel  turned  his  eyes  full  and  looked 
you  through,  body  and  soul. 

Still,  Zered  was  a  man  of  courage  and  Hal  left  him 


216  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

free  to  plead  his  cause  as  he  judged  best.  He  had  good 
reason  for  trusting  Zered.  The  Lieutenant  of  the  Hog 
Lane  Troop  reached  Ely  Tithe  House  eleven  hours  before 
my  Lord's  man  came  jogging  in,  and  long  before  that 
Cromwell  knew  the  story  of  the  rupture  in  its  minutest 
details.  He  wrote  a  letter  to  his  Captain  which  contained 
no  word  of  blame,  and  indeed  as  much  praise  as  he  ever 
bestowed.  "  I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  acted  wisely 
and  promptly  in  the  matter  of  the  Renegadoes,  as  well  as 
in  other  things.  While  my  Lord  Woodham  remains, 
leave  a  small  party  in  his  house,  and  occupy  yourself  with 
the  defence  of  Maldon  harbour  and  Osea  Island.  I  send 
you  a  requisition  for  supplies  and  tools,  also  for  men  to 
dig,  to  be  given  to  the  Mayor  and  Councilmen.  For 
the  payment  of  necessities  bid  them  look  to  me.  Spend 
nothing  but  what  is  needful — of  that  I  need  not  warn  you. 
For,  as  you  know,  money  is  harder  to  come  by  than  men 
or  arms,  and  I  will  send  down  Sam  Squire,  my  assessor, 
to  see  that  you  are  not  cheated." 

"  Captain  Hal  Ludlow  is  a  brave  and  most  useful  offi- 
cer," General  Cromwell  wrote  to  my  Lord.  "  I  have 
no  fault  to  find  with  his  conduct,  and  any  private  griev- 
ance you  may  have  with  him  will  be  sufficiently  removed 
by  my  sending  him  to  lodge  in  Maldon,  where  he  will 
busy  himself  with  the  defences  of  the  port  and  adjacent 
island.  A  section  of  his  men  only  will  remain  at  your 
charge,  as  I  cannot  allow  such  a  strength  as  Danbury 
Towers,  so  lately  defended  against  us,  to  be  completely 
without  garrison.  I  trust  to  see  you  at  Westminster  dur- 
ing the  week  when  I  will  again  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  my  family. 

"  Your  faithful  servitor, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

"  The  man  is  little  better  than  a  sectary  and  an  Ana- 
baptist himself,"  growled  my  Lord.     "  So  that  a  man 


GREAT  PAINS  TO  LITTLE  PURPOSE     217 

be  a  good  soldier  and  useful  to  him,  he  cares  not  for 
remonstrances  from  the  whole  body  of  peers." 

In  saying  which  my  Lord  was  entirely  within  the  facts. 
Hal  Ludlow's  value  to  the  organiser  of  the  Ironsides  was 
entirely  personal.  He  would  have  risen  just  as  high  if 
he  had  been  a  "  homespun "  Captain,  who  (as  smart 
young  men  in  Westminster  Hall  jested)  were  "filling 
dung-carts  this  time  last  year."  A  man's  value  was  his 
fighting  value,  his  obedience,  his  initiative,  his  readiness 
to  take  responsibility.  To  be  his  Excellency  the  Chief 
Commissioner's  son  was  no  assistance  to  a  man  in  Colonel 
Cromwell's  regiments,  but  then  neither  was  it  any  draw- 
back. 

It  did  not  take  Hal  Ludlow  long  to  make  his  disposi- 
tions. He  left  Sergeant  Pascal  and  Corporal  Royds  at  the 
Towers  with  ten  men  to  mount  guard  and  report  to  him 
daily  at  Maldon.  Pascal  was  an  excellent  steady  fellow, 
and  nothing  was  known  as  to  the  treachery  of  Doe  Royds. 
He  was,  indeed,  accounted  sullen,  but  he  had  conducted 
himself  bravely  when  it  came  to  blows,  had  steadied  the 
charge  when  Rupert  attacked  at  Marston  Moor,  and 
though  little  accounted  of  by  Hog  Lane  was  understood 
to  merit  his  rank.  Like  his  General,  Hal  took  a  man  at 
his  fighting  value,  but  not  always  with  Cromwell's  long- 
sightedness. For  with  Cromwell  "  fighting  value  "  meant 
all-round  serviceableness  to  the  Cause,  not  mere  strength 
of  arm  when  steel  clashed  against  steel — though  that  had 
its  value  also,  especially  in  a  soldier  of  the  troop.  These 
two  were  to  keep  camp  week  about  with  the  Osea  engi- 
neers and  the  garrison  of  Maldon. 

The  Maldoners  had  suffered  much  from  the  raids  of 
the  King's  garrison  while  Lady  Molly  kept  the  royal  flag 
flying.  They  therefore  took  a  more  serious  view  of  the 
situation  than  their  neighbours,  being  within  an  easy 
half-hour's  ride  of  the  castle  gate. 

The  experience  had  been  amusing  for  Lady  Molly,  no 
doubt,  but  not  so  much  for  the  merchants  and  forage 


218  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

sellers  whose  cellars  and  stockyards  had  been  pillaged. 
Now  they  counted  on  Lady  Molly  to  speak  a  word  to  her 
father  on  their  behalf,  but  my  Lord  had  refused  to  grant 
them  the  least  remission. 

"  After  all,"  said  my  Lord,  "  it  is  your  own  fault, 
Essex  is  a  backward  shire.  You  should  have  raised  a 
couple  of  thousand  horsemen  as  Colonel  Cromwell  hath 
done  in  Cambridgeshire." 

"  Very  well  said,  my  Lord,"  said  Mayor  Staines,  of 
Maldon  Wester ;  "  but  where  are  we  to  find  our  Crom- 
well?   I  have  not  heard  of  two." 

"  No,"  said  my  Lord,  "  and  I  doubt  if  all  England 
could  hold  two." 

Finally,  though  declining  all  responsibility  for  damage, 
he  let  it  be  understood  that  leniencies  of  rent  and  bene- 
fits of  leasing  and  pasturage  would  be  granted  to  such  as 
could  satisfy  Mr.  Mayor  Staines  and  his  own  agent  as  to 
the  justice  of  their  claims.  For  my  Lord  Woodham 
Walter  was  of  those  whose  wrath  runs  so  fiercely  that 
the  reservoir  is  soon  empty.  So,  when  once  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  the  exile  of  Hal  from  Danbury,  he 
began  to  feel  compunctions.  On  the  morrow  he  rode 
round  to  see  him  at  his  entrenching  work  by  the  river,  and 
being  touched  by  the  young  man's  simple  directness  of 
manner  and  speech,  he  proposed  to  send  him  a  score 
of  stout  labourers  better  accustomed  than  Hal's  Hog 
Laners  to  the  labour  of  the  spade  and  mattock.  As  for 
Osea  Island  he  would  have  barges  loaded  with  stone  for 
the  fort  which  General  Cromwell  had  ordered  to  be 
built  on  the  point  of  the  Island,  and  he  would  speak  to  the 
masons'  guild  of  the  town  that  they  should  take  no  other 
work  on  hand  while  their  services  were  needed  by  Cap- 
tain Ludlow.  For  all  which  excellent  good  things  Captain 
Hal  very  soberly  thanked  my  Lord,  while  little  Zered 
grinned  behind  his  back,  thinking  of  the  letter  which 
General  Cromwell  had  contemptuously  tossed  across  the 
table  for  him  to  read.    "  What  is  wrong  with  that  Captain 


GREAT  PAINS  TO  LITTLE  PURPOSE     219 

of  yours,"  the  General  had  demanded,  "  to  have  my 
Lord  Woodham  Walter  write  of  him  to  me  thus  ?  " 

"  Methinks,"  said  Zered  after  he  had  glanced  over  the 
letter,  "  my  Lord  hath  one  opinion  of  the  Captain,  be- 
cause his  daughter,  Lady  Molly,  hath  another." 

"Ah,  say  you  so,  Zered?"  said  Cromwell  thought- 
fully. "  Now  I  remember  my  scatter-brained  Bess  whis- 
pering some  such  folly.  Well,  if  my  Lord  imagines  he 
can  drill  and  discipline  the  likings  and  dislikings  of 
young  people  he  hath  before  him  great  pains  to  little 
purpose." 


XXIV 
THE  SUBSTITUTE 

THE  wind  was  blowing  steadily  up  from  the  sea,  fill- 
ing the  estuary  with  short-running  little  waves,  and 
tossing  the  branches  in  the  woods  towards  Wood- 
ham  Mortimer  and  Danbury.  Oaks  groaned  under  the 
sudden  push  of  the  gusts.  Ash  trees  moaned  softly 
overhead  like  a  woman  in  pain,  and  here  and  there  a 
treacherous  elm-branch  came  down  with  a  rending  crash 
and  the  sullen  sound  of  leaves  threshing  the  ground. 

Captain  Hal  had  had  a  busy  day.  He  had  been  over 
to  Osea  Island  with  my  Lord's  stone  barges.  He  had 
planned  and  laid  out  the  new  works  at  the  seaward  end, 
for  which  the  General  was  sending  down  guns  from 
Westminster.  Upon  his  return  to  his  quarters  in  Mayor 
Staines'  old  house  between  the  woods  of  West  Maldon 
and  the  sea,  he  had  found  an  invitation  from  the  Castle. 
He  was  to  go  there  to  dinner  that  night.  Lady  Molly 
insisted  upon  it.  Dame  Cromwell  sent  her  salutations 
and  Bess  added  a  malicious  entreaty  urging  him  to  come, 
promising  to  keep  his  secrets  if  he  would,  but  otherwise 
to  divulge  "  the  records  of  his  crimes  "  to  the  whole 
dinner-table. 

Hal  smiled  drily,  gave  the  letter  to  his  Lieutenant  and 
asked  for  advice. 

"  Go  by  all  means.  Never  refuse  an  olive  branch," 
said  Zered.  "  I  shall  take  the  evening  trip  to  the  Island 
and  perhaps  stay  all  night.  You  can  make  the  rounds 
here  for  me  before  you  turn  in.  You  are  likely  to  be  kept 
late  if  my  Lord  and  his  Westminster  flagon-emptiers  are 
of  the  party." 

220 


THE  SUBSTITUTE  221 

"  I  shall  not  wait,"  said  Hal  emphatically. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  counselled  Zered  with  his  habitual 
finesse ;  "  there  is  never  any  harm  in  finding  out 
what  the  enemy  is  thinking — especially  an  enemy  in 
liquor." 

Hal  Ludlow  laughed. 

"  They  would  soon  have  the  better  of  me  at  that 
game.  I  should  be  babbling  before  their  eyes  began  to 
gleam.  The  Slepe  Troop  and  Hog  Lane  are  no  schools  of 
toping." 

"  But  you  were  at  college,  Captain.  I  have  heard  that 
the  gentle  Johnians  sometimes  look  at  a  wine  glass 
without  trembling." 

"  Such  was  never  my  folly,"  said  Hal. 

"  No?  Well,  now  comes  back  to  me  that  I  had  heard 
as  much — I  mean  that  your  youth  hath  been  singularly 
abstemious !  " 

"  You  mean  nothing  of  the  kind,  my  good  Zered — I 
understand  perfectly,  but  since  neither  you  nor  any  of 
Hog  Lane  can  find  a  fault  with  their  Captain  since  the 
troop  was  raised,  we  shall,  if  you  please,  let  the  dead 
bury  its  dead." 

"  Well  said,  my  young  Captain.  There  you  had  Zered 
Tuby,  the  more  shame  to  him  for  pestering  you  in  the- 
style  of  grumbling  Zachary.  The  Lord  hath  turned  the 
sins  of  your  youth,  such  as  they  were,  into  the  crown  of 
your  manhood.  And  so  much  He  doth  not  for  all  the 
world." 

"  You  speak  riddles,  friend  Zered." 

"  They  can  be  read,  my  riddles,"  said  the  little  man 
with  the  black  ringlets  beginning  to  grizzle  under  his 
steel  "  pot."  And  he  pointed  to  the  invitation  which  lay 
on  the  ground  between  them. 

"  My  Lady  Molly,  our  excellent  Dame  the  General's 
wife,  and  his  daughter  all  pleading  with  the  Captain  of 
the  Seventh  to  sup  with  them — would  they  have  done 
as  much,  think  you,  for  Zered  Tuby  ?  " 


222  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  If  they  had  known  you  as  I  know  you — ^yes !  "  said 
Hal  Ludlow  stoutly. 

"  Do  not  wile  me  with  willy-whas — do  not  lure  me 
with  Will-o'-the-Wisps,"  the  little  man  waved  aside  the 
compliment,  not,  however,  altogether  ill-pleased.  And 
refusing  further  to  discuss  the  subject,  he  undertook  the 
direction  of  his  chief's  toilette  with  the  same  scrupulous 
exactitude  with  which  he  would  have  seen  to  the  equip- 
ment of  a  recruit  for  the  Hog  Lane  Troop. 

Hal  was  compelled  to  take  a  couple  of  stout  soldiers 
with  him.  The  road  was  not  safe  and  three  men  were 
better  than  one,  Zered  averred ;  and  so  to  Danbury, 
along  the  leafy  lanes  strewn  with  twigs  and  leaves  brought 
down  by  the  south-east  wind.  Captain  Hal  Ludlow  rode 
with  his  escort.  All  the  way  he  had  been  fearing  that 
the  Lady  Molly  had  taken  advantage  of  her  father's 
absence  to  send  him  an  invitation.  He  had  no  wish  to 
visit  the  Towers  like  a  thief  in  the  night  in  the  master's 
absence.  Yet  how  delightful  it  would  be  to  see  the 
girls  by  themselves  and  talk  to  them  after  dinner  while, 
with  her  usual  consideration,  the  Dame  Elizabeth  went 
placidly  to  sleep. 

But  when  Hal  rode  into  the  courtyard,  he  saw  my 
Lord  descending  the  broad  staircase  to  welcome  him. 
The  pride  of  Hog  Lane  was  satisfied,  the  private  hopes  of 
its  Captain  less  so.  Still,  it  would  please  Zered  to  be 
able  to  tell  the  troop,  which  had  spoken  of  ducking  my 
Lord  in  his  own  pond,  for  the  insult  offered  to  them  by 
excluding  their  Captain  from  the  banquet  of  the  first 
evening. 

My  Lord  was  cordial,  even  with  an  effort,  heavily 
jovial.  He  asked  for  his  friend  Mayor  Staines,  for  whom 
he  professed  a  great  respect. 

"  An  old  family,  Captain  Hal — an  old  family,  I  tell 
you.  Good  blood,  the  Staines  of  West  Maldon — a  thing 
too  little  looked  to  in  these  days,  father  offered  a 
baronetcy  by  his  late  Majesty  soon  after  he  came  from 


THE  SUBSTITUTE  823 

Scotland.  And  pretty  daughter,  ah,  you  dog,  I  have 
heard  of  you  before.  You  had  an  eye  in  your  head  when 
you  picked  your  lodging.  Well,  I  think  no  worse  of  you 
for  it — I  should  have  done  as  much  when  I  was  your  age, 
as  I  told  the  ladies  to-day  at  breakfast." 

Hal  whistled  softly  as  he  saluted  the  great  man. 
But,  as  he  followed  him  into  the  hall,  he  muttered  be- 
tween his  teeth : 

"  So  the  old  fox  has  been  setting  the  maids  against  me 
and  Dame  Elizabeth  also  with  his  tales.  If  I  knew  the 
young  whipper-snapper  who  had  been  priming  him  I 
should  twist  his  neck." 

For  he  was  not  yet  old  enough  to  know  that  a  reputa- 
tion for  being  a  favourite  with  women  never  yet  hurt 
any  man  with  a  sex  which  can  be  excellently  logical  upon 
occasion. 

Even  good  Dame  Elizabeth  welcomed  him  as  a  son. 
For  such  prodigals  the  women  kill  the  fatted  calf  which 
might  have  grown  into  a  peaceable  ox,  sooner  than  for 
scores  of  irreproachable  young  men  who  never  crossed 
deserts  or  went  "  petticoating  "  into  far  countries. 

My  good  Dame  Elizabeth,  do  you  know  that  you  are 
setting  a  premium  on  evil-doing?  Young  ladies,  is  it 
wise  or  maidenly  to  encourage  dangerous  young  men ! 

"  Very  likely  not,"  they  say,  "  but  how  much  more 
interesting !  " 

My  Lord  had  some  reason  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of 
women,  when  he  noted  how  little  chance  the  wise  secre- 
taries and  lawyers  of  Westminster  and  the  Temple  had 
with  the  hard-bitten  young  Captain  of  horse  who  had 
been  in  more  than  fifty  charges,  including  the  great  twi- 
light of  Marston  Moor,  and  had  seen  Rupert  broken  and 
Goring  driven  before  the  wind  "  like  a  little  dust." 

The  Lady  Molly  sat  silent  listening,  her  eyes  wide, 
her  pupils  dilated,  and  her  breath  coming  fast,  while 
Bess  Cromwell  lost  her  slipper  three  times  under  the 
table. 


2M  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

For  all  which,  and  for  other  reasons  as  well,  Hal  had 
made  himself  well  hated  before  the  dinner  was  half  over. 
But  for  all  that,  or  because  of  that,  he  was  well  content, 
and  enjoyed  every  minute  of  his  stay.  He  would  not 
remain  to  drink  when  the  ladies  had  retired,  giving  as  a 
reason  that  he  had  to  ride  the  rounds  on  his  return. 

He  closed  the  door  and  the  storm  broke  immediately 
upon  his  retreating  footsteps.  He  was  a  vauntard,  a 
boaster  before  women,  a  fellow  who  was  afraid  of  a  glass 
of  good  Burgundy. 

My  Lord  sat  listening,  and  though  he  was  ill-pleased 
with  the  foolishness  of  women,  he  was  by  no  means  sorry 
to  have  a  chance  of  giving  his  young  placemen  a  lesson. 

"  A  vauntard,  the  young  man  is  not.  Our  ladies  made 
him  speak  against  his  will — and  it  was  of  his  chief  he 
spoke,  who  is  to  him  as  a  god.  Even  if  he  were,  he  has 
something  to  boast  of — fifty  charges  before  a  man  has 
half  as  many  years,  with  Gainsborough  and  Marston 
Moor  to  end  all — 'tis  harder  work  than  shaping  pens  and 
scribbling  sonnets  upon  the  desks  of  Whitehall." 

The  young  officials  were  abashed  and  surprised,  but 
they  consoled  themselves  with  abundant  cups  of  my 
Lord's  admirable  Chambertin.  So  that  when  they  heard 
the  trampling  of  horses'  hoofs  in  the  courtyard  beneath, 
they  rose  with  one  accord  and  went  outside  with  my 
Lord  to  bid  his  guest  God-speed. 

The  ladies  were  there  before  them.  Lady  Molly  had 
caused  a  couple  of  torches  to  be  brought,  and  Hal,  hel- 
meted,  plumed,  and  breastplated,  a  very  proper  man, 
stood  ready  to  make  his  adieux. 

Silk  and  velvet,  even  the  best  the  city  could  supply, 
made  a  poor  show  beside  Hereward  and  his  master  in 
their  stained  campaigning  gear,  but  with  every  bit, 
stirrup,  spur,  corslet,  and  helm  glittering  in  the  ruddy 
torchlight. 

A  courteous  salutation  and  Hal  swung  Hereward 
round,  the  two  guards  fell  in  behind  and  they  rode  forth 


THE  SUBSTITUTE  226 

into  the  blue-black  night,  intense  with  stars.  The  men 
went  back  to  their  wine,  but  the  women  stood  listening 
so  long  as  the  sea-wind  brought  to  their  ears  the  beat  of 
the  horses'  feet  and  the  light  tinkling  treble  of  their 
bridle-chains. 

When  Hal  arrived  at  the  temporary  headquarters  of 
his  troop,  he  found  that  it  wanted  only  a  couple  of  hours 
of  the  time  he  had  fixed  for  riding  the  outposts.  A  vessel 
of  three  masts  had  been  seen  that  morning  from  the  fort 
at  the  point  of  the  isle.  It  was  known  that  the  beaten 
Newcastle  was  anxious  to  make  a  landing  of  the  force 
which  still  remained  to  him  somewhere  along  the  Essex 
coast,  whence  he  could  threaten  London,  and  it  was 
partly  on  this  account  that  Hal  and  his  troop  had  been 
posted  at  Maldon. 

Removing  his  "  pot "  and  breastplate,  loosening  his 
belt  and  drawing  off  his  boots,  Hal  threw  himself  on  the 
straw  pallet  in  the  guard-room. 

He  had  two  good  hours  to  sleep  and  he  had  been  in  the 
saddle  since  five  in  the  morning,  except  the  time  spent 
on  Osea  Island  directing  the  fortifications. 

Sergeant  David  Pascal,  in  whom  had  grown  up  a  blind 
adoration  of  his  Captain,  watched  Hal  throw  himself 
down  on  the  straw  and  fall  instantly  asleep.  Pascal  was 
a  Huguenot  of  the  South  and  so  a  countryman  of  the 
Wassailer.  His  Captain  had  rescued  him  once  at  Gedney 
and  a  second  time  in  the  Goring  charge,  when  he  had  been 
isolated  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy.  Hal  had  thought 
no  more  about  the  matter,  but  Pascal  had  not  forgotten. 

Exiles  have  long  memories,  both  for  wrongs  and  kind- 
nesses. So  the  sergeant  sat  and  watched  the  energetic 
look  fade  out  of  the  boyish  face.  He  saw  the  peace  of 
childhood  return,  and  with  a  muttered  prayer  he  bowed 
his  austere  Roman  profile  towards  the  blonde  head  lying 
on  the  rude  pillow  of  hay. 

Hog  Lane  snored  peaceably  all  about  and  the  hour  of 


226  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

midnight  slowly  approached.  Then  Pascal  rose  and  laid 
his  hand  on  Hal's  shoulder  to  waken  him.  The  five  men 
were  already  at  the  door  and  the  horses  were  champing 
bridles  in  the  keen  night  air.  Hal  moved  a  little  im- 
patiently in  his  sleep.    The  sergeant's  will  was  changed. 

"  Let  him  sleep — he  is  young  and  very  tired.  I  will 
ride  the  rounds." 

So  strapping  on  the  Captain's  "  pot "  with  its  white 
plume  and  drawing  about  him  the  dark  cavalry  mantle 
of  grey,  he  strode  out  to  ride  the  outposts  in  his  Cap- 
tain's place.  He  was,  as  he  well  knew,  taking  a  liberty, 
but  when  a  man  has  twice  saved  a  man's  life,  as  his 
Captain  had  saved  the  sergeant's,  one  does  not  stick  at 
trifles.  The  six  men  found  all  well  along  the  town  posts, 
sentinels  on  guard  and  many  little  choruses  of  snoring 
noses.  They  had  turned  to  come  back  along  the  river- 
side, when  at  a  point  opposite  the  fort  on  Osea  Island, 
a  sharp  voice  challenged.  The  five  drew  closer  together 
their  reins  loose,  their  fingers  on  the  triggers  of  their 
pieces,  vainly  spying  out  the  night.  Something  blacker 
than  the  dark  water  which  lapped  the  pier  posts  showed 
in  front.  The  sergeant  rode  forward  alone,  thinking  that 
Osea  Island  had  something  to  communicate  concerning 
the  brig  which  had  been  seen  the  day  before. 

"Has  the  fort  been  attacked  or  a  landing  effected?" 
he  shouted,  never  doubting  but  that  he  had  to  do  with 
his  comrades. 

A  single  shot  fired  steadily  as  from  a  rest  struck  him 
full  in  the  neck.  He  fell  forward  with  a  dull  clash  of 
arms.  His  lurking  adversary  had  had  him  clearly  sil- 
houetted against  the  sky. 

"  So  much  for  Captain  Hal !  "  cried  a  mocking  voice, 
as  the  boat  detached  itself  from  the  solid  blackness  of  the 
pier. 

The  muskets  of  the  five  men  went  oflf  in  a  scattering 
volley,  which  was  followed  by  a  laugh  from  the  boat  now 
rapidly  being  lost  to  sight  as  the  tide  swept  outward. 


THE  SUBSTITUTE  227 

When  they  took  up  Sergeant  David  Pascal  he  was 
dead,  but  when  they  brought  him  into  the  barrack  cham- 
ber in  the  grey  dawning,  Hal  Ludlow  still  lay  asleep  on 
the  clean  straw  of  the  pallet  where  he  had  thrown  him- 
self down. 


XXV 

HAPPINESS  CORNER 

CORPORAL  DOE  ROYDS  gained  the  foot  of  the 
isle  of  Osea  in  a  very  exultant  mood.  He  had 
slain  the  enemy,  whom  he  had  twice  missed  before. 
There  was  no  Captain  Hal  Ludlow  any  more  to  order 
him  about  and  to  take  the  eyes  and  the  hearts  of  the  girls. 
Now  Neha  la  Fain  would  cease  to  scorn  him — she  who 
could  not  waste  a  civil  word  upon  him,  a  man  in  her 
own  position,  but  would  run  like  a  dog  at  a  whistle  from 
Captain  Hal,  a  man  who  cared  not  the  snap  of  his  finger 
about  her,  who  never  looked  her  way,  who  only  made  use 
of  her  as  he  would  have  ordered  about  any  of  his 
troop. 

As  for  Doe  Royds,  he  had  brooded  over  his  wrongs  till 
he  actually  came  to  think  himself  the  most  wronged  of 
men.  Though  he  would  have  killed  his  Captain  if  he  had 
seen  him  lay  a  hand  upon  the  girl  whom  he  watched 
with  vulturine  jealousy,  yet  he  hated  Hal  still  more  for 
not  being  susceptible  to  those  pleading  passionate  looks 
for  one  of  which  he  would  have  risked  his  life. 

Sullen,  silent,  intensely  vindictive,  he  pursued  Neha 
with  awkward  gallantries.  He  brought  wisps  of  flowers 
plucked  on  the  mainland  thrust  into  his  tunic  where 
they  were  crushed  by  the  straps  of  his  breastplate — or 
a  pound  of  butter  half  melted  and  imprinted  with  the 
marks  of  dirty  fingers,  a  tiny  pistol,  taken  from  the 
breast  pocket  of  a  dead  cavalier.  Such  were  some  of  the 
love-tokens  of  this  dangerous  Caliban. 

He  would  sit  watching  her  with  a  hunger  of  bestial 
envy  gnawing  at  his  vitals.    Never  had  he  seen  anything 

228 


HAPPINESS  CORNER  229' 

so  fine,  graceful,  and  agile !  Yes,  he  would  have  her.  She 
should  be  his  and  he  would  use  dagger  or  bullet  against 
anyone  who  stood  in  his  way,  or  against  Neiia  herself  if 
she  resisted  his  will. 

Now  Doe  Royds  possessed  a  stolid  and  impregnable 
courage,  without  spirit  or  enthusiasm,  but  entirely  under 
control.  He  did  not  see  much  of  the  world  out  of  those 
small  porcine  eyes  sunk  in  that  massive  square  face  dis- 
figured with  curious  white  marks  of  which  no  one  but 
himself  knew  the  meaning.  These  stood  out  a  ghastly 
whiteness,  the  whiteness  of  bleached  bone,  as  often  as 
Doe  Royds  took  to  drinking  his  favourite  Rotterdam 
schnapps.  When  his  face  showed  purple  speckled  with 
white,  his  comrades  kept  out  of  the  way  and  warned  each 
other  to  look  out  for  Doe  Royds.  These  curious  scars,  of 
which  no  one  had  ever  guessed  the  origin,  were  bites 
gained  in  the  rat  pits  of  the  Borough,  in  a  well-hidden 
space  of  ground  behind  the  Anchor  Tavern.  There  Doe 
Royds,  in  a  period  of  acute  financial  disaster,  had  killed 
rats  with  his  teeth,  running  naked  on  all  fours  like  the 
wild  beast  he  was,  while  the  magnificent  bucks  of  the 
palace  antechambers  cheered  him  on  and  wagered  broad 
acres  and  ancestral  manors  that  Royds  would  kill  his 
thirty  in  an  hour.  Once  he  had  been  matched  against 
my  Lord  Buckingham's  Tiger  which  should  kill  the  most, 
and  the  man  had  the  dog  well-beaten  when  at  a 
"St — ssst"  from  his  master  Tiger  flew  at  his  rival's 
throat  and  the  bets  were  declared  off.  But  Doe  Royds 
killed  the  dog  with  his  naked  hands. 

With  such  episodes  happening  to  him  as  a  daily  por- 
tion, no  great  delicacy  could  be  expected  from  Corporal 
Royds.  He  had,  indeed,  boxed  the  compass  of  sordid 
crime,  served  on  shipboard,  mutinied,  and  saved  himself 
by  swimming,  cut  throats  on  the  Kent  Road  for  a  handful 
of  coppers,  played  the  highwayman  on  Blackheath,  and 
lurked  under  the  creaking  chains  of  the  gibbet  without 
shivering,  to  catch  the  obscene  crows  that  congregated 


S30  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

there,  with  sieve  and  string  as  in  the  days  of  his  innocent 
youth.  Innocent — had  Doe  Royds  ever  been  innocent? 
If  so,  he  had  utterly  forgotten  the  fact. 

But  he  had  happened  to  be  of  use,  in  the  way  of  his 
business,  to  the  great  Mr.  Silas  Scale,  and  had  been  hired 
to  protect  him  from  the  fury  of  enemies  who  disapproved 
of  his  business  methods.  He  had  stood  manfully  to  his 
engagement  because  the  other  side  would  not  offer  him 
a  larger  price.  He  had  saved  Friend  Scale  from  tar-and- 
feathering — if  not  from  something  worse.  And  the 
grateful  Quaker  had  brought  him  to  Boreham  Barns, 
where  he  became  for  a  while  a  promising  convert.  But 
the  Society  of  Friends  would  have  none  of  him,  and  after 
a  brief  trial  the  Anabaptists  cast  him  out.  Indeed,  they 
had  never  believed  in  him,  and  finally  by  his  master's 
advice  he  had  taken  service  as  a  spy  in  the  Hog  Lane 
Troop. 

And  the  dogged  sleuth-hound  energy  of  the  man  made 
a  good  soldier  of  him — as  it  were  in  spite  of  himself.  He 
cheated,  betrayed,  plotted,  and  murdered.  But  once 
in  the  ranks  he  would  ride  with  the  best,  and  in  the 
charge  no  man  save  Hal  and  Zered  fell  faster  or  more 
furiously  upon  the  enemy.  His  badge  of  corporal  had 
been  well-gained,  well-deserved,  and  a  source  of  no 
grumbling  in  the  troop  save  what  came  from  Doe  Royds 
himself. 

Why  could  they  not  leave  a  man  alone  ?  He  was  very 
well  as  he  was.  He  asked  no  favours  from  the  great  and 
he  would  gladly  have  done  without  this  one. 

Which  in  a  way  was  true,  for  Doe  Royds  as  a  troop 
corporal  found  himself  a  more  marked  man  than  plain 
Trooper  Doe  Royds.  It  was  harder  for  him  to  steal  off 
in  the  twilight  unremarked,  leaving  a  post  without  a 
commander,  and  Hog  Lane  was  not  long  in  scenting  a 
mystery. 

"  Surely  our  corporal  is  a  bold  man,"  some  of  the 
younger  whispered  among  themselves,   "  to  go   '  petti- 


HAPPINESS  CORNER  231 

coating '  with  a  face  on  him  like  a  badly  cooked  plum- 
pudding." 

Doe  Royds  had  strong  nerves,  and  he  had  need  of 
them  when  looking  up  from  the  polishing  of  his  accoutre- 
ment he  saw,  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  fort  shelter, 
within  arms'  length  of  him,  the  man  he  had  left  for  dead 
ten  hours  before  on  the  old  Baskerville  pier. 

"  Sergeant  Pascal  has  been  killed,"  Captain  Hal 
announced.  "  They  mistook  him  for  me,  because  he  had 
put  on  my  helmet  to  ride  the  rounds.  Bring  over  the 
men  to  the  funeral." 

With  the  wailing  of  bugles  and  the  blast  of  volley- 
firing  the  Hog  Lane  Troop  laid  their  sergeant  in  his  grave. 
And  the  man  who  seemed  to  grieve  most  decorously  and 
sincerely  was  his  successor,  Sergeant  Doe  Royds  of  the 
Seventh  Troop  of  the  First  Regiment  of  Cromwell's 
Horse. 

To  be  a  good  soldier  covers  a  multitude  of  sins.  Doe 
Royds  was  not  even  suspected.  The  gap  in  the  numbers 
of  the  troop  was  filled  by  the  enlistment  of  Lieutenant 
Zered's  nephew,  a  fine  tall  French  Drover,  who  arrived 
with  horse,  bridle,  arms,  and  accoutrement,  needing  only 
the  scarlet  coat  of  the  Eastern  Association  and  an  hour 
or  two  a  day  of  extra  drill,  which  was  supplied  to  him 
alternately  by  his  uncle  and  Sergeant  Doe  Royds. 

So  Death,  with  silent  mouth  and  inscrutable  eyes,  went 
to  and  fro  in  the  Seventh  Troop,  saluting  and  com- 
manding, an  obedient  and  dependable  subaltern,  a  fine 
and  ready  fighter,  a  model  soldier.  But  for  all  that, 
whether  he  listened  to  his  Captain's  orders,  or  looked 
towards  the  Isle  House  where  about  the  doors  Neha 
la  Fain  went  and  came,  flitting  like  a  busy  butterfly  in 
her  blue  cloth  dress  sashed  with  scarlet.  Death  looked 
out  of  the  deepest  beady  eyes,  and  as  it  were.  Hell  fol- 
lowed after.  Yet  no  man  was  quicker  in  the  saddle,  none 
more  ready  in  reconnaissance,  none  more  forward  in  the 
charge,  none  so  well  fitted  to  lead  a  "  forlorn."    He  held 


232  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

his  own  life  cheap,  which  enabled  him  to  do  as  much  for 
that  of  others.  Certainly  he  had  failed  once  or  twice. 
His  bullet  had  miscarried,  but  in  the  long  run  he  must 
succeed — because,  being  unsuspected,  he  could  choose 
his  time.  And  Doe  Royds  was  by  no  means  an  impatient 
man.  With  steel  and  lead  he  would  make  a  wilderness 
about  Nefia  la  Fain,  so  that  he  alone  might  possess  her. 
As  for  love,  Doe  Royds  took  no  account  of  that.  She 
should  be  his  to  have  and  to  hold. 

Meanwhile  Hal  and  Zered,  all  unconscious,  made 
themselves  strong  at  Maldon  and  fortified  Osea  Island 
at  their  pleasure.  Every  day  Hal  rode  with  an  escort  to 
the  Towers  to  take  news  of  the  ladies  and  to  change 
the  men  of  the  guard,  so  that  the  ten  men  left  there 
might  not  miss  their  due  proportion  of  spade  and 
mason  work,  or  grow  idle  in  that  Capua  of  great  folk's 
cookery. 

Sometimes,  especially  in  the  heart  of  the  week.  Captain 
Hal  found  that  my  Lord  with  his  train  of  secretaries  had 
departed  Londonwards.  He  always  knew  this  long  be- 
fore he  reached  the  gate.  The  men  on  guard,  stripped 
of  their  gay  coats,  were  busily  engaged  in  splitting 
kindling  wood,  bringing  in  faggots,  carrying  water,  and 
even  under  the  personal  conduct  of  the  spruce  laundry- 
maids  hanging  out  clothes — upon  all  which  occupations 
Hal  turned  an  eye  conveniently  blind.  Nay,  he  regarded 
the  scene  with  the  toleration  of  a  fellow-culprit — at  least 
by  intention. 

For  to  these  days  of  peace  Master  Hal  found  himself 
looking  forward,  and  as  they  trod  the  leafy  aisles  and 
deep  lanes  of  Woodham  Mortimer,  the  feet  of  Hereward 
lifted  more  lightly  and  fell  faster.  For  he  knew  that  his 
saddle  and  trappings  would  be  removed,  and  he  turned 
out  into  that  earthly  paradise,  a  shady  green  paddock, 
where  he  could  roll  under  trees,  and  so  fulfil  the  desire 
of  his  heart. 

After  dinner   (or  even  after  breakfast  if  Hal  came 


HAPPINESS  CORNER  233 

early)  the  girls  would  disappear,  leaving  Hal  talking  to 
Dame  Elizabeth,  who  on  pretext  of  seeing  to  the  do- 
mesticities would  presently  descend  upon  the  kitchen  to 
levy  war,  or  ascend  of  an  afternoon  to  doze  behind  closed 
blinds  in  her  own  room.  For  Dame  Cromwell,  contrari- 
wise to  her  Lord,  was  a  good  easy  dame,  who  loved  de- 
lights and  scorned  laborious  days. 

This  was  just  as  well,  for  during  those  autumn  days 
a  busy  or  suspicious  chaperon  of  damsels  would  cer- 
tainly have  surprised  in  the  deepest  shade  of  the  orchard 
a  scene  which  might  have  proved  displeasing  to  her. 
But  Dame  Elizabeth  could  be  counted  upon. 

The  younger  children  played  boisterously  on  the  far 
outskirts,  fed  Hereward  with  sweet  cakes,  starting  back 
when  his  moist  breath  blew  upon  their  bare  arms,  or  deep 
in  the  pastures  lost  themselves  among  the  ragweed  and 
tall  blonde  clusters  of  meadowsweet.  Bridget  had  for- 
bidden the  orchard  to  them,  from  the  heights  of  her 
twenty  years.  Bess,  with  characteristic  virulence,  had 
threatened  chastisement.  So  Bridget,  Bess,  and  the 
Lady  Molly  sat  on  the  wall,  broidering  or  shamelessly 
dangHng  legs  and  sucking  apples  till  Captain  Hal,  eased 
of  his  armour,  a  Montero  cap  on  his  head  and  a  book 
under  his  arm,  appeared  from  the  back  door  of  the  barn, 
and  strode  meditatively  towards  them  as  though  study- 
ing the  whole  art  of  war.  At  sight  of  him  Bess  Cromwell 
leaped  from  the  wall  and  running  towards  him  before  he 
could  defend  himself  (poor  unfortunate!)  had  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  crying,  "  Kiss  me,  Hal.  These  others 
won't  say  so,  but  I  don't  mind.  Kiss  me,  I  have  not  been 
kissed  for  oh,  so  long  a  while !  " 

Which  desire  being  fulfilled  to  the  lady's  content,  Hal 
soberly  kissed  the  hand  which  Bridget  tendered  to  him 
nonchalantly,  but  the  Lady  Molly  from  her  perch  leaned 
forward  with  her  hands  on  either  shoulder,  and  offered 
her  lips — "  to  keep  that  shameless  Bess  in  countenance," 
she  explained.    But  Bess  rejected  the  glose.    "  Nonsense, 


234^  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Hal.    'Tis  because  she  likes  it !    She  would  be  too  jealous 
else." 

So  between  the  differing  of  such  doctors  Hal  was  left 
to  make  his  choice.  In  any  case  the  result  was  equally 
pleasant,  for  after  a  time  or  two  Bridget,  feeling  herself 
out  in  the  cold,  submitted  with  an  excellent  grace,  as  if 
in  a  fit  of  absent-mindedness  being  of  that  large  female 
clan  who  permit  that  which,  if  asked,  they  would  refuse. 
It  was  a  good  time  for  Captain  Hal  when  the  children 
were  sent  to  play  in  the  water  meadows. 


XXVI 
THE  AMATEUR  WIZARDS 

WHEN  the  order  came  from  General  Cromwell, 
now  for  three  days  only  at  Westminster,  Hal 
took  it  at  once  to  his  Lieutenant.  "  Zered,"  he 
said,  "an  order  is  an  order,  and,  as  there  is  but  one 
God,  so  Oliver  Cromwell  is  his  prophet.  This  I  believe 
like  any  Turk.  But  this  goes  farther  than  my  father's 
son  ever  bargained  for.  I  did  not  enlist  in  the  Slepe 
Troop,  one  of  the  first  draft,  to  be  a  spy." 

"A  spy — how  so?"  grunted  Zered,  reaching  out  his 
hand  to  take  the  letter,  a  broad  sheet  much  folded,  upon 
the  ample  breadth  of  which  some  words  were  hastily 
dashed  as  by  a  man  with  infinite  business  upon  his  mind. 
And,  indeed.  General  Cromwell  had  written  in  an  ale- 
house, his  horse  saddled  and  bridled,  stamping  im- 
patiently without,  audible  as  he  wrote: 

"  Sir, — Deliver  over  the  Troop  to  your  Lieutenant. 
There  is  a  work  which  presses.  We  are  sorely  needing 
news  of  Oxford.  The  man  who  went  thither,  a  cousin 
of  the  accursed  Hothams,  hath  played  us  false.  We  are 
wholly  without  knowledge  of  their  forces  or  intentions. 
I  know  you  take  your  life  in  your  hands,  but  so  do  we  all 
every  day — though  I  do  admit  it  is  one  thing  to  be 
hanged  like  a  dog  and  another  to  die  like  a  gentleman, 
sword  in  hand.  Yet  knowing  not  where  to  turn,  I  put 
this  matter  confidently  in  your  hands.  I  would  send  one 
of  my  own  sons,  but  Harry  is  too  young  and  headstrong, 
Richard  without  dependence,  being  cursed  with  the 
curse  of  Reuben.    Go  then  and  God  be  with  you !    Take 

285 


236  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

what  armour-bearer  you  will,  and  return  as  speedily  as 
may  be,  for  the  King  threatens  to  overcrown  all  in  the 
South  and  West,  making  our  good  day's  work  at  Marston 
Moor  of  none  effect. 

"  I  am,  with  a  faithful  heart, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

Hal  sat  watching  Zered  as  he  read  and  re-read  the 
General's  orders. 

"  An  order  is  an  order,"  said  Zered,  "  and  must  be 
obeyed — that  is  point  first.  Point  second,  you  must 
depart  openly  as  if  summoned  to  London  by  the  General. 
I  will  call  up  the  men  and  you  will  read  Oliver's  direction 
that  I  take  over  the  command.  Point  third,  you  are  left 
free  as  to  your  choice  of  an  armour-bearer ;  now  I  should 

advise  you "    And  here  he  leaned  close  to  Hal  Ludlow 

and  whispered  a  name  which  seemed  vastly  to  surprise 
that  young  gentleman.  He  gazed  a  long  moment  at 
Zered  to  see  if  he  were  in  earnest,  and  then  muttered, 
"Would  you  have  me  disgrace  myself  for  ever?" 

"  Nonsense — there  is  no  disgrace.  If  the  business 
should  come  to  the  General's  knowledge,  I  will  under- 
take to  make  the  matter  clear." 

"  It  was  not  of  General  Cromwell  I  was  thinking," 
said  Hal  dejectedly.  Nevertheless  he  suffered  himself 
to  be  persuaded. 


In  the  cornfields  by  the  way  the  right  yellow  was  full 
on  the  wheat,  but  there  were  few  men  to  be  seen  as  the 
little  ass  caravan  creaked  its  way  along  towards  Oxford. 
Rupert  had  pressed  most  of  them  and  the  rest  were  in 
hiding.  Now  in  their  absence  their  womenfolk  handled 
the  reaping-hook.  Children,  brown  and  gaunt,  were  gath- 
ering the  crop  hastily,  and  as  each  half-dozen  sheaves 
was  knotted  into  a  bundle,  it  was  carried  away  by  long- 
legged  lasses  to  some  hiding-place.     For  these  were  not 


THE  AMATEUR  WIZARDS  237 

times  in  which  sheaves  can  be  left  for  a  single  night  in 
the  fields. 

Yet  all  of  them  are  glad  to  abandon  the  dry  snipping 
rasp  of  the  hooked  hand-sickle  and  the  warm  breath  of 
the  encircled  corn,  to  run  to  the  edge  of  the  road  to 
marvel  at  the  yellow-peaked  hat  of  the  elder  traveller, 
covered  with  gilt  pasteboard  and  inscribed  with  mystic 
Chinese  signs. 

"  The  wise  men  out  of  the  East,"  they  cry,  "  give  us 
a  charm,  Master  Melchior !  " 

The  Mage  is  a  tall  man  with  vividly  red  hair,  a  droop- 
ing moustache,  and  a  little  apple-pip  of  beard  in  the 
dimple  of  the  chin.  He  is  dressed  in  flame-coloured  silk, 
embroidered  in  black  and  red  with  squares  and  triangles, 
crosses  and  crescents  in  an  intimate  tangle  of  design. 
The  flame-coloured  robe  reaches  his  feet  whenever  he 
wears  it,  but  on  the  silent  spaces  where  none  come  to  see 
the  dress  of  ceremony  is  carefully  stowed  in  a  linen 
casing  like  a  long  sausage  roll  and  swung  across  the 
saddle  of  the  mouse-brown  donkey.  The  nimble  appren- 
tice sorcerer  runs  hither  and  thither,  a  stimulating  ash 
plant  in  hand,  which  is  used  vigorously  whenever  the 
caravan  lags,  owing  to  the  donkeys  pulling  furtively  at 
tempting  tufts  and  thistle-heads  by  the  roadside. 

Melchior,  the  wizard  healer^  and  Sidi,  his  boy,  are  on 
their  way  to  cure  the  King's  troops  at  a  cheap  rate,  and 
to  amuse  Prince  Rupert,  who  has  heard  of  them  and 
whose  safe-conduct  is  ready  to  the  hand  of  Melchior  the 
Mage  in  case  of  need.  For  Rupert's  sign  manual  is 
worth  a  hundred  times  that  of  the  King  among  the  riotous 
and  marauding  troopers  with  whom  the  daring  wayfarers 
are  likely  to  meet. 

Sidi,  too,  is  worth  looking  at.  He  is  of  an  even  hue, 
face,  hands,  and  legs  bare  from  the  wide  white  bragas  of 
linen  to  the  sandals  of  leather  fastened  with  the  thong 
which  passes  between  the  great  and  second  toe  of  each 
foot.    The  colour  of  his  skin  is  of  dusky  lemon  with  an 


238  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

underglint  of  something  metallic  like  dim  gold  shining 
through.  He  wears  a  short  pigtail  carefully  braided  with 
silk  which  he  often  carries  in  his  mouth  or  coiled  about 
his  head,  caught  into  place  with  a  two-pronged  Oriental 
pin  of  yellow  ivory.  His  eyes  are  oblique  and  with  long 
black  lashes,  and  the  scanty  down  on  his  upper  lip  is  care- 
fully darkened.  A  handsome  young  barbarian  enough  in 
his  white  turban  and  blue  linen  robe,  which  is  generally 
tucked  up  under  a  belt  of  crocodile  skin  so  as  to  leave 
his  limbs  free  for  his  constant  dashes  after  those  pestilent 
asses.  These  he  addresses  as  Djered  and  Djebel — names 
which,  Arabic  enough  in  appearance  and  provenance, 
become  in  his  mouth  reminiscent  of  Lieutenant  Zered 
of  the  Seventh  Troop  and  of  a  personage  never  long  out 
of  the  mouths  of  Puritan  sectarians,  especially  when 
set  to  drive  asses.  So  "  Zered  "  and  "  Devil  "  are  soon 
popularly  known  as  the  names  of  the  wizard's  donkeys, 
and  Sidi  becomes  famous  all  along  the  Oxford  road  for 
the  vigour  of  the  apostrophes  addressed  to  his  charges. 

"  Nena,"  said  the  Mage,  retucking  his  gown  which  had 
been  threatening  for  the  last  mile  to  break  loose,  "you 
must  give  me  another  lesson  in  patter-talk." 

"  Better  keep  to  '  Sidi,'  "  said  the  apprentice ;  "  you 
might  make  an  awkward  mistake  over  yonder  among 
the  King's  men.  As  for  the  patter,  you  had  better  leave 
the  gipsy  to  me,  and  do  you  speak  English  fast  and  a 
little  broken.  You  are  the  learned  man,  and  if  you  can 
throw  in  any  scraps  of  college  Latin  or  odd  sounding 
names,  it  will  do  no  harm.  Ah,  Devil — come  away  from 
the  beehives  there,  or  we  shall  have  to  run  for  our 
lives." 

And  the  ash  plant  played  a  merry  tune  on  the  mouse- 
coloured  flanks  of  Djebel,  whose  evil  disposition  had 
earned  him  the  vulgar  cognomen  by  which,  at  the  pitch 
of  Sidi's  voice,  he  was  generally  addressed. 

These   anathemas   delivered  in  an   unknown   tongue, 


THE  AMATEUR  WIZARDS  239 

with  only  the  one  word  intelligible,  uniformly  impressed 
the  natives  of  the  loyal  counties  west  of  the  King's 
circle  of  fortresses.  Within  this  pale  the  Sages  were 
received  with  joy,  and  certain  of  Sidi's  pranks,  which  in 
the  Puritan  east  would  have  ended  in  a  drubbing  at  least, 
were  applauded  and  encored.  But  till  they  had  passed 
Reading,  Sidi  and  his  master  observed  the  unobtrusive 
decency  of  foreign  travelling  merchants. 

Thereafter  the  wizard's  outfit  was  added  to  gradually 
according  to  Sidi's  sure  taste  for  the  strange  and  exotic. 
The  silver  collar  which  marked  him  as  a  slave  had  been 
graven  with  his  master's  name  by  a  jeweller  on  Tower 
Hill,  to  whom  as  a  fellow-Anabaptist  Zered  Tuby  had 
given  them  an  introduction.  Thick  silver  chains  tinkled 
at  Sidi's  ankles,  and  the  key  of  the  collar  padlock  hung 
at  Rabbi  Melchior's  girdle. 

Almost  the  only  buildings  which  had  neither  been 
plundered  nor  wrecked  were  the  mills.  It  was  pleasant 
to  come  upon  them  on  the  woodland  valleys,  cool  and 
quiet,  the  brick  redder  than  elsewhere  from  the  constant 
drifting  of  spray  from  the  great  wheel  where  it  splashed 
above  the  pool. 

"  Aye,"  said  the  goodwife  at  one  of  these,  "  we  were 
much  troubled  at  first,  before  we  got  our  protection,  by 
the  plunderers.  But  after  the  Prince  had  hanged  half  a 
dozen  at  Oxford  town  gate  and  written  on  their  breasts, 

'  FOR  MEDDLING  WITH    MILLS  AND  MILLERS,'  they  have  let 

us  alone.  You  see  they  need  us  to  grind  their  corn,  and 
cannot  do  without  us  at  any  hazard.  How  do  we  live? 
Better  than  you  might  think — but  what  is  the  use 
of  telling  you.  Master  Wizard,  who  must  know  every- 
thing?" 

Hal  became  absorbed  and  intent.  He  had  played  in 
the  Wold  mills  as  a  boy  and  remembered  something  of 
millers  and  their  ways. 

"  I  see  a  by-pass  in  the  great  funnel,"  he  said  gently. 
"  It  opens  and  shuts,  and  when  the  wheat  is  all  ground, 


MO  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

there  is  a  little  pile  far  down  below  in  the  darkness  of  the 
cellar." 

The  miller's  wife  was  a  comely  dame  and  good- 
humoured.     She  laughed  merrily. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  of  the  brotherhood.  Methought 
I  saw  the  meal-dust  among  your  hair  when  you  came  in. 
You  know  that  we  must  have  our  little  profits,  or  how 
could  we  live?  And  where  would  the  siftings,  pea-meal, 
bean-meal,  and  other  stuff  come  from  for  the  fattening  of 
our  porkers?  " 

So  on  the  strength  of  this  vague  fraternity  Hal  and 
slave-boy  Sidi  were  invited  to  stay  with  Miller  Tibbetts 
and  his  wife,  and  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  pair  did 
not  go  unrewarded.  For,  being  too  great  a  Mage  to  con- 
descend to  such  trifles  himself,  Rabbi  Melchior  ordered 
his  servant  to  give  such  an  exhibition  of  legerdemain  as 
caused  the  honest  people  to  cross  themselves  to  avert  the 
evil  eye.  It  was  all  of  the  simplest  sort,  but  Sidi's  manipu- 
lation was  of  the  finest  and  his  passes  the  most  dexterous. 
That  night  the  Mage  slept  in  a  great  oaken  bedstead  of 
the  time  of  King  Harry,  while  Sidi  occupied  the  truckle 
bed  on  little  broad  wheels  which  during  the  day  reposed 
underneath. 

It  was  scarcely  midnight  and  Sidi  not  yet  retired  to 
his  truckle  bed  when  a  great  noise  of  battering  and 
shouting  arose  outside  the  miU-door.  "  In  the  name  of 
the  King — open  there,  miller,  or  we  will  burn  down  your 
mill !  "  From  their  chamber  they  could  hear  Goody 
Tibbetts  waking  her  husband,  who  apparently  slept  his 
stoutest,  as  one  might  say,  upon  both  ears. 

"  Go  down  and  speak  with  them,  John,"  she  was  say- 
ing. "  I'll  wager  'tis  the  same  troop  of  fly-by-nights  who 
came  hither  to  rob  us  a  month  ago."  Miller  Tibbetts 
groaned  and  gathered  his  clothes  somehow  about  him 
and  groped  his  way  downstairs.  At  the  sound  of  his 
voice  the  brawl  redoubled. 

"  Open  the  door — we  are  sent  by  the  King !    We  must 


THE  AMATEUR  WIZARDS  241 

have  flour  and  meal — aye,  aye,  oats  for  our  horses  and 
money  for  our  pockets.  Millers  are  all  rich,  as  rich  as 
misers !  " 

Hal  and  Sidi  could  not  hear  the  miller's  protestations, 
but  the  answering  threats  came  over  the  wall  and  the 
solid  wooden  gate  "  dithered  "  upon  its  supports.  The 
chamber  in  which  master  and  slave-boy  lay  communi- 
cated by  a  small  door  and  a  flight  of  steps  with  the  upper 
part  of  the  mill,  which  poked  a  gloomy  forehead  of  gable 
out  over  the  gate.  The  door  was  open  and  a  windlass 
protruded.  It  was  to  this  granary  that  Miller  Tibbetts 
lifted  his  spare  sacks  of  wheat,  both  full  and  empty.  Sidi 
took  an  empty  sack,  stuffed  it  with  straw,  wrapped  a 
linen  sheet  from  the  bed  round  it,  and  tied  a  rope  about 
one  corner,  so  that  the  head  hung  down  in  a  way  sur- 
prisingly suggestive.  Then  having  procured  a  large 
sheet  of  paper,  he  printed  some  words  upon  it,  and 
leaving  Hal  to  attach  the  placard  to  the  breast  of  the 
stuffed  and  swathed  figure,  set  off  to  search  among  the 
cargo  of  conjurer's  tricks  which  had  been  placed  in  the 
great  storehouse  on  the  ground-floor. 

Here  Sidi  came  upon  Goody  Tibbetts  wringing  her 
hands.  She  called  out  at  sight  of  him,  "  Oh,  run  and 
hide,  little  wizard,  else  they  will  kill  both  you  and  your 
master,  and  they  will  burn  the  mill  and  steal  all  our 
goods  and  gear.    What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ? "  quoth  Sidi,  hastily  rummaging  among 
packages.  "  Do — go  to  the  window  and  look  out !  " 
And  he  sped  upstairs  with  his  find.  Captain  Fly-by- 
Night's  gang  had  no  direct  connection  with  the  royal 
forces,  but  was  composed  of  those  rough  unstable  ele- 
ments, thieves  and  broken  men,  who  sometimes  took  a 
hand  in  the  later  stages  of  a  siege  in  order  to  be  first 
at  the  plundering  of  the  burghers.  But  they  could  give 
and  take  blows  also,  though  they  never  attacked  unless 
the  odds  were  at  least  ten  to  one  in  their  favour.  They 
had  one  fear  in  the  world  and  that  was  Rupert,  who,  in- 


242  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

deed,  plundered  himself,  but  did  not  allow  mere  irregu- 
lars and  camp  followers  to  strip  his  men  of  their  dues. 

So  beneath  swarmed  and  clamoured  the  crew  of  ruf- 
fians, partly  on  foot  and  part  mounted  on  lean  nags  and 
stolen  cart-horses.  They  had  found  the  trunk  of  a  small 
fir  tree  laid  out  to  season  for  next  winter's  fires.  Of 
this  they  had  made  a  rude  battering  ram  which  they  had 
swung  against  the  great  spiked  wooden  gate  with  a  thud 
which  shook  the  framework  of  the  mill. 

It  was  time  to  be  acting,  and  Sidi  ran  out  his  stuffed 
sack  to  the  point  of  the  windlass,  and  giving  the  rope  to 
Hal  bade  him  "  lower  away."  The  dangling  figure  with 
the  bobbing  pendent  head  over  which  Sidi  had  tied  a 
white  handkerchief  was  let  down.  Dreading  some  trick 
or  dangerous  explosive  the  besiegers  gave  back  a  little, 
and  the  apparent  corpse  descended,  dipping  and  dangling, 
the  head  sagging  aside  in  a  manner  horribly  suggestive. 
The  troop  of  plunderers  paused  a  moment  uncertain  what 
to  do.  But  from  the  window  over  their  heads  burst  a 
ghastly  flare  of  blue  which  lit  up  the  dangling  figure, 
and  especially  the  white  oblong  of  the  placard  pinned 
to  the  breast : 

"  FOR   MEDDLING  WITH  MILLS  AND  MILLERS." 

While  with  one  hand  on  the  windlass,  and  dressed  in 
buff  jerkin  and  Montero  cap,  they  saw  through  the  blue 
glare  a  figure  like  the  Prince  Justicer  who  cried,  "  Rascals 
— I  know  you — must  I  hang  the  whole  of  you  that  my 
mills  may  have  peace  ?  " 

They  scattered  as  if  the  devil  were  at  their  heels, 
yelling  to  each  other  that  Rupert  was  coming  and  pur- 
sued even  into  the  depths  of  the  forest  by  the  image  of 
that  dangling  figure  with  the  swathed  blind  face,  the 
awful  voice,  and  the  keen  blue  flame  which  seemed  to 
write  every  man's  name  upon  his  brow. 

From  that  night  forth  Miller  Tibbetts  and  his  Goody 


THE  AMATEUR  WIZARDS  243 

were  left  in  peace.  For  Captain  Fly-by-Night's  gang 
spread  the  report  to  explain  their  defeat.  The  Prince 
often  spent  the  night  there.  It  was  not  good  to  pass  that 
way,  and  they  added  considerations  which,  though  dam- 
aging to  the  good  name  and  fame  of  the  miller's  wife, 
gave  complete  security  to  her  husband  from  all  future 
depredation. 

And  so  did  Sidi  and  his  master,  but  especially  Sidi, 
requite  right  royally  so  excellent  a  reception.  Miller 
Tibbetts  had  entertained  angels  unawares. 

But  it  was  not  often  they  could  count  upon  such  a 
reception.  Nor,  indeed,  did  they  greatly  desire  it.  The 
shelter  of  their  tent,  set  up  ten  or  twelve  feet  above  the 
stream,  on  a  promontory  if  possible,  with  a  wood  behind, 
and  a  view  up  and  down  the  valley — such  an  encampment 
was  good  fortune  for  them  to  find.  Or  sometimes  they 
camped  high  up  on  a  side  brook  which  came  racing  down 
from  the  ridges,  the  water  clean,  cool,  and  hard  from  the 
limestone.  They  slept  soundly,  the  asses  clicking  heels 
and  pulling  at  their  halters  where  Hal  had  tethered  them 
out,  or  rustling  furtively  among  the  osiers  of  the  "  rod- 
dam." 

Sidi,  with  his  back  against  a  great  trunk  and  his  feet 
to  the  camp  fire,  slept  and  waked  alternately,  nor  could 
Sidi  himself  have  told  at  any  given  moment  whether  he 
was  asleep  or  awake.  But  he  mended  the  fire  at  the 
right  moment,  and  when  the  first  breath  of  morning 
blew,  he  opened  wide  the  flaps  of  the  tent  door.  The 
fresh  sweet  air  entered,  fanning  the  sleeper  into  instant 
wakefulness.  Hal  was  on  foot  and  alert.  No  drowsy 
stretchings  and  yawnings  such  as  happen  to  those  who 
sleep  in  shut  houses.  He  had  been  asleep.  He  was 
awake — that  was  all ! 

In  these  days  Sidi  was  wonderful.  Never  had  he  been 
so  happy.  His  idol  went  by  his  side  all  day,  talked  to 
him,  was  instructed  in  all  the  new  wisdom  which  is  out- 
side the  range  of  college-bred  captains  of  horse.     That 


244.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

wave  which  came  up  the  stream  yonder  was  no  mere 
wave,  but  an  otter  swimming  silently  as  if  in  oil.  The 
water  vole  dived  from  the  bank  to  cut  the  fresh  reeds  on 
the  succulent  white  roots  of  which  he  made  his  breakfast. 
All  was  new  and  wonderful  to  Hal.  Best  of  all  was 
when,  gold  and  purple  against  the  pale  green  sky  of  late 
evening,  Sidi  pointed  out  the  towers  of  Oxford,  the 
King's  city,  very  far  away. 


XXVII 

OXFORD  IN  THE  KING'S  DAYS 

RUPERT'S  sign-manual  and  seal  had  admitted  them 
into  a  wonderful  city,  or  rather  a  city  which  formed 
but  the  kernel  of  a  great  entrenched  camp,  the 
Oxford  of  the  King.  Such  a  press  of  people,  such  gal- 
loping of  orderlies,  and  gay  young  Captains  of  foot 
walking  arm  in  arm,  ogling  the  damsels  as  they  went  by. 
For  the  King  held  court  in  Christ  Church  hall  and  the 
guard  royal,  with  gilded  breastplates,  stood  at  intervals 
along  the  crowded  ways.  The  church  steeples  and  grey 
colleges  were  gay  with  bunting,  blue  and  white,  and  from 
many  hundreds  of  masts  floated  the  red  cross  of  St. 
George.  But  colleges  and  churches,  nay,  even  the  loyal 
town  itself,  were  almost  lost  among  the  wilderness  of 
tents  and  wooden  erections  which  extended  on  all  sides 
both  up  and  down  the  river.  These  huts  of  plank  and 
rough-hewn  logs  from  the  Berkshire  forests  were  laid  out 
in  regular  alleys,  some  with  pompous  names — Coronation 
Highway,  Three  Kingdoms'  Avenue,  Love-Charles  Lane. 
Others  had  printed  placards  which  showed  the  wit  of  the 
gentlemen  cavaliers.  "  Traitors'  Gate,"  had  a  lych-gate 
in  the  form  of  a  gallows  from  which  little  figures  were 
dangling.  These,  to  prevent  mistake,  were  labelled, 
"  Essex,"  "  Fairfax,"  "  Manchester."  A  little  farther  on 
a  long  building  of  many  doors  and  small  unglazed  win- 
dows bore  the  sign,  "  Prynne's  Quarters,"  and  on  looking 
up  the  head,  legs,  arms,  and  trunk  of  the  great  Parlia- 
mentarian were  to  be  seen  empaled  on  spikes  on  the  flat 
rook,  drooping  red  rags  most  convincingly  as  the  wind 
swayed  them  about. 

245 


M6  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Patiently  and  meekly  Sidi  and  his  master  drove  their 
asses  before  them  through  a  wilderness  of  storehouses, 
cattle  sheds,  sheep  pens,  pig-sties,  and  cellars  recently 
dug,  with  the  earth  still  piled  high  in  front.  They  passed 
reeking  brickfields  and  stores  of  sea  coal  from  the  Forest 
of  Dean,  charcoal  sheds  and  wood  reserves,  hay  and  straw 
in  huge  stacks  each  a  hundred  yards  long,  all  duly 
thatched  and  battened  down.  Then  came  a  wider  avenue 
with  guarded  magazines  of  powder.  Here  sentinels  com- 
pelled them  to  keep  rigorously  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
where  the  dust  was  ankle  deep.  Presently  the  camp 
opened  out  on  a  wilderness  of  field  tents,  innumerable 
picketed  horses,  all  the  ordered  bustle  and  beehive 
diligence  of  a  long-occupied  cavalry  encampment.  Here 
were  no  gilded  guardsmen,  but  rough-clad  men  sat  in 
their  shirt-sleeves  mending  their  uniforms  or  burnishing 
their  accoutrements. 

Something  told  Hal  in  a  moment  that  he  had  seen  these 
bronzed  veterans  before.  He  recognised  the  soft  yellow 
leather  Mazarin  riding-boots  which  were  held  up  by 
bands  of  hide,  the  hacked  casques  and  scarred  breast- 
plates which  strewed  the  ground  in  front  of  the  tents. 

Where  had  he  seen  these  last  ?  It  came  back  to  him  in 
a  moment.  Why,  where  but  at  Marston  Moor,  in  that 
fateful  moment  when  Cromwell,  wounded  on  the  neck, 
had  been  beaten  down  upon  his  horse's  neck — when 
Zered  and  he  had  driven  in  before  him,  lashing  about 
them  fiercely,  their  swords  rising  and  falling  upon  hosts 
of  just  such  men  as  these. 

They  had  arrived.  Mage  Melchior  and  Sidi  his  slave 
were  at  last  in  the  cantonments  of  Prince  Rupert.  And 
there  on  the  tall  flagstaff  of  a  whitewashed  cottage  of 
two  stories,  garreted  above  with  tabaliere  skylights,  blew 
out  the  many-quartered  red  and  gold  standard  of  Rupert 
of  the  Rhine. 

As  they  came  near,  hoping  to  find  an  orderly,  who  for 
an   opportune   greasing   of   the   palm   might   take   their 


OXFORD  IN  THE  KING'S  DAYS         247 

credentials  to  his  Highness,  Rupert  himself  came  out  with 
his  brother  Maurice.  They  were  laughing  heartily  like 
men  who  had  already  both  eased  their  hunger  and  slaked 
their  thirst.  Rupert  clapped  his  brother  on  the  shoulder 
and  in  a  voice  audible  to  the  whole  square  of  busy 
cavaliers,  accused  him  of  trifling  with  the  fair  fame  of  a 
certain  Lady  Lulu — a  name  at  which  the  soldiers  paused 
in  their  stitching  or  polishing,  each  to  wink  knowingly  at 
his  neighbour. 

But  the  small  cavalcade  of  laden  asses,  the  peaked  hat, 
gilt  and  tinselled  in  red  and  silver,  the  gorgeous  magi- 
cian's robe,  Sidi  with  his  golden  skin,  his  blue  robe  and 
silver  collar,  instantly  arrested  Rupert's  attention. 

The  russet-clad  hearty  man  pushed  back  the  broad- 
brimmed  Vandyke  hat  from  his  brow  that  he  might  see, 
the  better.  The  asses  stood  patient  and  blinking,  while 
Melchior  the  Mage  bowed  low,  spreading  abroad  his 
hands  in  a  reverential  salaam,  while  the  lithe  slave 
springing  forward  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  at  the 
Prince's  feet,  and  knocked  his  forehead  three  times  on 
the  ground.  Then  he  leaped  up  and  presented  a  folded 
paper  to  the  Prince. 

"  Melchior  the  Mage  out  of  the  land  of  Mesopotamia, 
and  his  servant  Sidi  from  Cathay  on  the  confines  of 
China!  "  he  read  aloud. 

"  So  Frank  Hotham  hath  kept  his  word  after  all," 
Rupert  explained  to  his  brother  who  stood  looking  on 
indifferently  enough ;  "  I  little  expected  it,  seeing  that 
the  Hothams  have  other  fish  to  fry  just  now,  than  to 
think  of  mages  and  their  predictions." 

He  beckoned  Hal  to  approach.  The  Mage  strode  for- 
ward haughtily  and  stood  waiting  to  be  questioned. 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  "  Rupert  interrogated  with  more 
than  his  usual  brusqueness. 

"  I  heal  diseases  with  my  marvellous  oil — I  know  all 
herb-cures  and  balsams.  All  poisons  are  under  my  con- 
trol.   I  can  gain  love  and  I  can  break  it.    Hardest  task  of 


248  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

all  I  can  keep  love — that  is,  for  others.  I  can  foretell  the 
future,  by  the  lines  of  the  hand,  by  the  inkpool,  by  the 
grounds  of  coffee,  but  especially  by  the  peculiar  study  of 
the  stars  after  the  manner  of  Chaldea." 

"  Can  you  amuse  us  ?  Can  you  perform  feats  of  won- 
der-working, or  legerdemain?"  said  the  Prince,  whose 
ideas  were  eminently  of  the  present,  and  who  knew  quite 
as  much  about  the  past  as  he  wished  to  know. 

The  Mage  waved  a  haughty  hand. 

"  Not  I,  but  my  slave — he  is  exercised  in  all  such  things 
which  are  but  secondary  and  superficial " 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Rupert ;  "  we  shall  have  some 
amusing  secondary  things  this  evening.  I  prize  particu- 
larly the  superficial." 

He  was  about  to  turn  away  when  Melchior  asked  for 
the  Prince's  gracious  permission  to  set  up  his  tent  within 
the  cantonments,  and  also  that  by  his  favour  he  might 
be  allowed  to  practise  his  healing  arts  among  the  soldiers 
and  camp  followers. 

"  If  he  will  cure  my  Lady  Lulu's  spaniel  for  me,  he 
shall  have  all  the  protection  he  wants,"  broke  in  Prince 
Maurice.  "  Let  him  follow  me  and  he  shall  see  the 
brute." 

"  Pardon  me,  noble  Prince,"  said  the  Mage,  with 
grave  apology,  "  that  is  more  difficult,  for  I  cure  by  the 
influence  of  mind  on  mind.  But  still,  since  it  is  your 
desire,  I  shall  do  my  best  and  have  little  doubt  but  that 
I  shall  succeed." 

The  enclosure  of  Prince  Maurice  was  much  more 
private  than  the  great  square  about  Rupert's  quarters. 
The  elder  loved  to  live  in  the  midst  of  his  troopers,  and 
would  sit  down  to  share  their  ordinary  at  any  camp 
kettle.  He  would  gossip  by  the  hour  in  any  tent  door, 
and  the  men  adored  him  accordingly. 

But  Prince  Maurice  was  a  young  man  of  many  good 
fortunes  in  a  city  where  such  were  numerous  and  easy. 
He  was  a  favourite  among  the  ladies,  especially  those  of 


OXFORD  IN  THE  KING'S  DAYS         249 

heavier  purse  and  riper  years.  He  therefore  Hved  more 
retired,  in  a  square  of  sycamores,  palisaded  all  round. 
And  in  a  corner  of  this,  remote  from  the  low  ivy-over- 
grown Elizabethan  mansion,  the  Mage  and  Sidi  were 
allowed  to  erect  their  tent,  and  pasture  out  their  caravan 
asses.  A  door  in  the  palisade  and  a  fence  cutting  off  their 
corner  were  arranged  for  them,  so  that,  while  fully  pro- 
tected, they  could  neither  spy  upon  the  Prince's  guests 
nor  cause  trouble  by  entering  or  going  out  by  the  main 
guard. 

Prince  Maurice  sent  down  an  officer  with  the  sick 
spaniel  daintily  deposited  upon  a  cushion,  and  a  written 
word  in  a  lady's  delicate  hand  to  say  that  she  entrusted 
her  heart's  darling  to  the  wise  man  from  the  East.  He 
was  difficult  as  to  his  feeding  and  would  sometimes  snap 
when  irritated.  But  that  was  only  the  poor  darling's  way. 
To  this  was  added  a  detailed  list  of  the  meals  and  special 
dishes  which  would  be  sent  down  each  day  from  my 
Lady's  house. 

Hal  glanced  once  at  the  King  Charles  as  he  lay,  fat  and 
plethoric,  on  his  cushion  of  down. 

"  I  can  cure  him  in  a  week,"  he  said  with  the  slow 
grave  smile  of  a  true  Mage.  Here  at  least  was  something 
he  thoroughly  understood. 

The  officer  went  his  way,  and  the  Mage  Melchior  rudely 
jerking  away  the  cushion,  fastened  a  stout  cord  to  his 
gold  collar,  and  tied  him  up  in  an  empty  stall  beside 
Djebel  and  Djered.  A  basin  of  cool  water  was  put  within 
his  reach,  a  little  straw  to  sleep  upon,  and  the  darling, 
after  one  whipping  for  snarling  and  another  for  whining, 
was  left  to  work  out  his  own  salvation  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  stable. 

When  the  repasts  came  down  by  my  Lady's  gentleman, 
Melchior  and  Sidi  gave  thanks  and  shared  the  dainties 
complacently  between  them.  As  for  the  darling,  his 
business  was  not  to  whine,  to  keep  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  donkeys'  little  hard  heels,  and  to  drink  as  much  water 


250  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

as  he  liked.  He  was  already  on  the  highroad  to  health. 
Three  days  of  excellent  spring  water  changed  his  outlook 
upon  life,  and  when  the  wonder-worker  appeared  on  the 
fourth  morning  with  a  basin  of  crusts  boiled  to  a  sop,  he 
ate  modestly  and  with  a  changed  heart,  not  snarling  once 
but,  contrariwise,  licking  the  hand  that  fed  him. 
Melchior  was  a  Mage  indeed. 


XXVIII 
CAMP  FIRE  MAGIC 

UPON  a  platform,  composed  of  the  two  waggons, 
securely  propped  upon  trestles  with  boards  laid 
crosswise,  under  the  light  of  flaring  torches  planted 
at  the  four  corners,  appeared  nightly  Sidi  and  Sidi's 
master. 

Overhead  a  crocodile  grinned  and  swung  open- 
mouthed,  and  the  impish  tricks  of  the  apprentice  dis- 
tracted attention  momentarily  from  the  preparations  of 
the  grave  Mage,  who  in  a  mood  of  solemn  abstraction 
was  setting  out  his  remedies. 

If  the  night  were  still,  as  it  mostly  chanced  in  Oxford 
camp  at  that  season,  butterflies  balanced  and  fluttered 
about  a  pair  of  fans  in  Sidi's  clever  hands,  rising  and 
settling,  or  with  an  outward  sweep  falling  among  the 
audience,  while  the  apprentice  wizard  manufactured 
others  of  filmy  paper  quicker  than  the  eyes  of  the  on- 
lookers could  follow  him.  When  this  palled,  candlesticks, 
bottles,  and  eggs  became  suddenly  possessed  with  devils, 
dancing  wildly  in  the  air  and  coming  to  rest  where  and 
how  the  juggler  willed.  Or,  most  popular  sight  of  all,  a 
stalwart  trooper  in  full  panoply  was  pushed  up  on  the 
platform,  where  he  stood  foolishly  grinning,  while  from 
his  mouth,  out  of  his  ears,  and  from  the  stalwart  breadths 
of  his  back,  issued  yards  of  ribbon,  bolts  of  shavings,  and 
links  of  sausage.  He  was  invited  to  sit  down  on  a  bottom- 
less chair  and  immediately  began  to  lay  an  unlimited 
number  of  eggs  in  view  of  his  rejoicing  comrades,  while 
Sidi  imitated  to  perfection  the  self-satisfied  keckle  of  a 
hen  proclaiming  her  latest  maternity.     But  the  climax  of 

251 


252  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

the  joy  was  reached  when  from  the  hehnet  of  some  new 
arrival  in  the  camp,  an  officer  if  possible,  Sidi  produced 
with  extreme  surprise  a  tame  rat,  a  pair  of  pigeons,  a 
live  rabbit,  a  suit  of  baby  clothes,  and  on  one  occasion 
carefully  led  up  to  the  actual  authentic  baby  itself.  This, 
though  brilliantly  successful,  could  not  be  repeated, 
owing  to  the  unwillingness  of  the  mother,  a  certain 
Bridget  Sheeny  who  followed  the  camp,  to  have  her  little 
Michael  laughed  at. 

But  all  these  accessories  were  in  a  nioment  swept  away 
and  relegated  to  unseen  parts  of  the  caravan  when 
Melchior  waved  his  hand  in  a  triple  spell  to  the  four  great 
winds  of  heaven.  He  called  these  by  their  names.  He 
called  spirits,  Heth,  Toth,  Astoroth,  and  Demogorgon, 
up  from  the  vasty  deep.  He  invoked  the  great  healers 
and  wonder-workers,  pattering  names  easily  and  con- 
fidently, Tubal-Cain,  Solomon,  Cydelezius,  Cornelius 
Agrippa. 

"These  are  my  authors,"  cried  the  Mage  Melchior. 
"  From  them  springs  my  power.  I  can  tell  the  past  of 
any  man  or  woman  by  a  glance  at  their  hands.  Four 
farthings  and  no  more  is  the  cost — no,  not  from  the 
Prince  himself,  by  whose  favour  and  protection  I  stand 
here,  do  I  ask  more." 

"  Hurrah  for  Prince  Rupert !  " 

"  Four  farthings,  two  halfpence,  or  one  penny  buys  a 
full  view  of  the  past,  the  present,  the  future,  but  also  of 
the  health  of  your  head,  heart,  stomach,  and  bowels — 
not  dear  at  a  farthing  a-piece.  Thank  you.  Maid  Marion 
(to  a  towsy-haired  trollop  of  a  camp  follower).  You 
have  fared  hard  and  fared  soft.  But  though  seldom  you 
have  eaten  bread  twice  under  the  same  roof,  you  have 
kept  a  kind  heart  and  a  heavy  hand.  In  your  life  there 
is  a  fair  man  and  a  dark.  Both  love  you.  You  prefer  the 
fair  man  because  he  is  young  and  handsome,  but  then 
the  dark  man  is  rich.  Him  you  will  follow,  and  (with 
a  sudden  jerk  into  song) 


CAMP  FIRE  MAGIC  253 

"Down  the  hill  and  up  the  hill, 
He  shall  be  Jack  and  you  shall  be  Jill." 

"  There's  enough  for  a  penny,  Marion.  I  defy  all  those 
who  know  you  to  say  that  I  have  uttered  one  word  con- 
trary to  verity.    And  now  to  business.    I  have  here " 

(He  lets  fall  the  lid  of  a  case  and  shows  blue  phials 
ranged  in  endless  rows,  each  tied  down  with  curious 
foreign  withes  and  capped  with  gold  lack  paper  like  that 
which  had  glittered  on  the  wings  of  the  butterflies.) 

"  Here  we  have  the  most  holy  Eden  oil,  direct  from 
the  Garden.  Of  this  rare  drug  there  are  four  sorts, 
Euphrates,  Tigris,  Gihon,  and  Haddikil,  according  to  the 
name  of  the  river  on  whose  banks  the  sacred  balms  were 
culled.  I  come  from  Mesopotamia,  gentlemen  cavaliers. 
With  my  own  hands,  and  according  to  the  ancient  direc- 
tions of  my  ancestors,  the  Chaldeans,  Assyrians,  Babylo- 
nians, Persians,  and  Iranians,  I  have  distilled  this  mi- 
raculous juice  which  heals  all  diseases.  Gentlemen,  I 
speak  to  men  who  have  seen  the  world  and  know  that  all 
mankind  is  subject  to  disease.  Here  is  a  man  w^ho  thinks 
himself  in  perfect  health.  Really  his  heart  is  weak,  his 
purpose  feeble,  his  wrist  easily  fatigued " 

"  You  lie  in  your  throat,  dog  of  a  foreigner,"  cried  a 
tall,  sturdy  trooper,  whom  Hal  had  chosen  to  tease  be- 
cause of  the  wrathful  countenance  he  carried  about  with 
him.  "  My  wrist  weak? — why,  I  cleft  a  man  to  the  chine 
only  a  week  agone  at  Basing — as  I  will  do  for  you,  if  you 
will  take  off  that  yellow  blanket  and  stand  up  like  a  man." 

Mage  Melchior  had  been  watching  for  such  a  chance. 
He  did  not  get  it  every  night. 

"  I  will  humour  you,  friend,"  he  said ;  "  your  hand  is 
feeble  on  the  sword-hilt — I  can  see  it  wicker,  and  the 
wrist — why,  it  needs  a  full  sixpenny-worth  of  Eden 
Balsam." 

"  Step  up  here  and  I  will  prove  it,  my  good  Captain !  " 

The  man  stepped  up  on  the  platform,  sword  in  hand 
and  eager  for  the  fray. 


254  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  I  will  carve  him  to  Eden  chops !  "  he  shouted  down 
to  his  comrades. 

"  I  am  a  man  of  peace — will  any  lend  me  a  sword?" 
A  dozen  were  instantly  at  his  disposal.  He  took  the 
nearest  to  his  hand  quite  at  random,  dropped  his  long 
mystic  robe,  and  showed  himself  in  knitted  jersey  and 
close-fitting  knee-breeches. 

"  Not  fair,  Will  Make,"  cried  the  crowd ;  "  how  can 
he  fight  against  a  man  in  armour?  " 

"  Fair  it  is,"  quoth  Will  Make,  "  since  he  said  I  had 
a  poor  heart  and  a  weak  wrist." 

"  Fair  indeed,  comrade,"  agreed  Hal.  "  I  have  my 
magic  cap  ...  of  pasteboard — the  gift  of  Assur-bani- 
pal,  principal  magician  of  Persepolis,  the  chief  city  of 
my  nation." 

And  he  made  the  peaked  hat  revolve  and  pirouette  as 
if  alive. 

"  On  guard  there,  William!  If  you  are  strong  enough 
to  stand  up  alone." 

"  I  give  you  the  lie,"  roared  William,  thrusting  desper- 
ately, only  to  find  his  sword  glide  aside  from  the  ready 
guard. 

"  Stand  to  it,  William,"  shouted  the  crowd.  "  He 
called  thee  a  weakling." 

"I'll  'weakling'  him!"  retorted  sturdy  Will.  And 
the  blades  met  with  a  clash.  What  happened  after  that 
passed  too  swiftly  to  be  written  down  in  detail.  William 
was  conscious  that  his  sword  had  been  taken  possession 
of,  beaten  up  and  down  to  right  and  left  at  his  oppo- 
nent's pleasure,  finally  snatched  from  his  hand  and  sent 
spinning  into  the  sycamore,  where  it  stuck  crosswise 
among  the  branches. 

Hal  ran  quickly  and  grasped  the  outstretched  wrist 
which  William  Make  was  regarding  open-mouthed. 
"  Quick,  Sidi,  a  drop  of  the  EUxir !  There,  my  good 
Captain,  my  noble  soldier — what  did  I  tell  you?"  (For 
the  man  winced  and  gasped  as  the  fiery  spirit  passed 


CAMP  FIRE  MAGIC  255 

down  his  throat.)  "Now,  Captain  Will,  I  will  try  no 
more  bouts  with  you.  Now  your  wrist  is  like  steel.  You 
can  fight  with  the  master  fencer  of  the  army — and  all 
only  costs  you  six  pennies — I  thank  you !  Here  is  your 
sword  which  my  slave  Sidi  has  brought  back  out  of  the 
tree  tops.  And  thank  you,  sir,  for  the  loan  of  your  good 
blade !  " 

The  Mage  Melchior  bowed  low  to  the  smart  young 
gallant  of  Prince  Maurice's  corps,  whose  sword  he  had 
used. 

"  Mage  or  no  Mage,  I  must  get  him  to  show  me  that 
hotte,"  muttered  the  owner.  **  It  was  as  clever  a  trick  of 
fence  as  ever  I  saw.  Only  once  did  I  see  a  young  fellow 
do  the  trick  in  old  Rouvigny's  salle  behind  the  Globe 
Cock  Pit." 

"  And  who  was  he  ? "  asked  his  companion  care- 
lessly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  not,  a  young  collegian  from  Cambridge, 
they  said.  But  I  forget  his  name,  a  lad  half  this  con- 
jurer's age.  But  the  trick  was  the  same — a  beating  of 
the  opponent's  sword  this  way  and  that,  benumbing  the 
fingers,  then — whoop,  sudden  lift  and  the  blade  flickered 
to  the  rafters  of  the  fencing  hall." 

But  there  was  no  pause  in  the  patter  of  the  Wise  Man 
from  Mesopotapiia. 

"  The  Balsam  of  Eden  cures  all  maladies,  spleens, 
hypochondries — better  than  all  dill,  aniseed,  germander, 
and  ground  pine,  whether  sodden  in  water  or  drunk  with 
wine.  The  sacred  remedy  may  be  taken  inwardly  or 
applied  outwardly.  Euphrates  and  Tigris  for  the  inward 
parts,  Haddikil  for  wounds,  and  Gihon  as  a  liniment, 
plaister,  or  ointment,  excellent  for  toothache,  heartache, 
the  pains  of  unrequited  love,  and  for  blistered  feet — four- 
pence  only  to  a  foot  soldier,  and  to  each  lover  who  will 
publicly  declare  the  name  of  his  true  mistress,  I  will 
present  a  phial  as  a  free  gift." 

By  this  time  trade  had  grown  brisk.    The  sale  of  the 


256  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

bottles  fell  to  Sidi,  who  handed  them  out  with  Oriental 
indifference,  clinking  the  change  into  a  brown  leather 
bag  at  his  girdle. 

"  'Tis  good  for  the  sick.  It  cures  them  of  their  pains. 
It  is  good  for  the  well.  It  prevents  him  from  falling  ill — 
for  the  strong,  it  makes  them  stronger — for  the  weak,  it 
makes  them  fierce  as  Numidian  lions. 

"  See  what  it  hath  done  for  Will  Make !  Who  will  try 
a  bout  with  him  now?  The  sick,  the  well,  the  aged,  the 
weak !  Nay,  a  man  must  be  devilishly  dead,  indeed,  if  it 
does  not  bring  him  alive  again !  " 

A  curious  quiver  passed  among  the  ranks  of  the 
listeners  as  the  Mage  continued  to  speak  rapidly.  Hal 
glanced  about  but  could  see  nothing.  Sidi's  sharp  eyes, 
however,  made  out  a  party  of  three  which  approached 
from  behind,  the  Princes  Rupert  and  Maurice  in  plumed 
helmets  and  breastplates,  while  between  them  with  a 
certain  austere  dignity  moved  a  third  in  black  cloth  of 
wondrous  fineness,  black  buckles  on  his  shoes,  and  con- 
fining the  plume  of  his  broad  hat,  only  upon  his  shoulders 
the  creamy  lace  collar  spread  in  graceful  folds. 

"The  King  .  .  .  behind  you  .  .  .  with  the  Princes!" 
Sidi  whispered  in  his  chief's  ear,  and  without  a  break  the 
voice  of  the  charmer  continued. 

"  I  have  also  remedies  for  the  spirit,  food  for  the  mind. 
The  latest  pamphlets  damp  from  the  press,  written  by  the 
wisest  men.  Doctor  West's  Defence  of  the  Dispensing 
Power,  the  Bishop's  Proof  of  the  Divine  Right  of  Kings, 
Sheldon  on  Non-resistance  to  the  Lord's  Anointed, 
Young's  Sin  of  Rebellion,  and  The  Iniquity  of  Schism  by 
the  same  notable  author — all  fresh  from  the  secret  presses 
of  the  city  and  none  ever  yet  seen  or  read  in  this  or  any 
other  camp.  Who  will  read?  Who  will  instruct  them- 
selves? " 

Behind  him,  Hal  was  conscious  of  a  movement,  and 
Sidi,  turning  half  round  while  apparently  still  busy  with 
the   box   full   of   pamphlets,    observed   the   King   bend 


CAMP  FIRE  MAGIC  257 

towards  his  right-hand  companion.  Presently  Prince 
Rupert  passed  up  a  lane  which  opened  automatically 
before  him. 

"  Give  me  one  of  each,"  he  ordered  roughly,  "  and 
heark  ye,  lad,  sell  no  more  till  I  give  you  leave." 

Sidi  made  a  packet  which  he  tied  with  a  blue  and 
white  favour  and  presented  it  to  the  Prince.  Rupert 
flung  a  gold  piece  on  the  platform  and  strode  away,  with 
the  injunction,  "  Bide  indoors  to-morrow  till  you  are  sent 
for.    There  may  be  questions  to  ask." 


XXIX 
THE  LADY  LULU 

ON  the  next  day  Hal  was  interrogated  with  much 
strictness  before  the  King  and  the  Princes.     How 
had  he  come  to  be  in  possession  of  the  pamphlets, 
yet  was  unable  to  give  any  account  of  political  matters 
in  the  city  ? 

He  answered  with  the  confidence  of  truth  that  since 
he  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Blackwater  coming  from 
Holland,  he  had  not  entered  the  capital,  but  had  made 
his  way  as  directly  as  possible  to  the  city  of  Oxford. 
He  had  obtained  his  letters  of  recommendation  from  the 
Hotham  family  while  yet  abroad,  while  the  English  part 
of  the  stock-in-trade,  the  pamphlets  and  news  sheets, 
had  been  sent  on  by  gipsy  friends  of  his  slave-boy  Sidi, 
who  made  a  traffic  in  such-like  throughout  all  the  loyal 
parts  of  the  kingdom  from  Cornwall  to  Lancaster. 

The  King  nodded  assent  and  approval. 

So  long  as  he  was  served,  he  cared  little  by  whom,  and 
indeed  few  ideas  pleased  him  more  than  that  of  the  high- 
ways of  England  being  filled  with  strolling  Egyptians  and 
harmless  secret  folk,  scattering  belief  in  him  and  his 
divine  mission  in  cottage  and  hall.  For  to  the  last  he 
retained  the  belief  that  if  only  he  could  appeal  directly 
to  the  common  people,  who  loved  him,  he  would  soon 
get  rid  of  that  wearisome  and  obstructive  Parliament 
which  did  nothing  but  stir  up  strife  between  him  and  his 
people. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  King  wearied 
of  Sidi's  gibberish  and  Hal's  interpretations,  which  added 
nothing  to  his  knowledge. 

258 


THE  LADY  LULU  259 

"  The  pamphlets  are  excellent.  Let  these  people  sell 
them.  The  more  good  seed  is  sown,  the  greater  will  the 
harvest  be." 

So  Prince  Maurice  rose  and  led  the  Mage  and  his  slave 
to  the  door.  They  left  the  presence  with  many  reverences 
of  which  the  King  took  no  notice,  but  continued  talking 
in  a  low  tone  to  Rupert.  But  Prince  Maurice  took  Hal 
by  the  elbow  and  said  hurriedly,  "  Go  as  fast  as  you  can 
to  my  quarters  and  persuade  the  Lady  Lulu,  whom  you 
will  find  there,  to  accompany  you.  Entertain  her  as  best 
you  may  till  I  come  for  her.  The  King  takes  dinner  with 
me  to-day  and  will  inspect  my  quarters.  See  to  it  as  you 
shall  answer  to  me,  that  she  leaves  no  woman's  fopperies 
behind  her.  The  King  will  send  me  to  black  Wales  or  to 
rot  in  moist  Cornwall  with  Ralph  Hopton." 

A  little  uncertain  as  to  his  reception,  but  taking  Sidi 
with  him  as  a  competent  adviser  on  matters  feminine, 
Hal  hastened  to  carry  out  his  instructions.  He  found 
that  the  Prince's  servants  had  taken  occasion  to  absent 
themselves,  all  but  the  cook,  who  was  startled  out  of  his 
decorum  by  the  news  that  the  King  was  to  dine  there. 
He  instantly  sent  one  of  his  satellites  after  the  truants, 
and  another  to  the  market,  while  with  his  mouth  filled 
with  Alsacian  oaths,  German  "  donnerwetters,"  and 
Rhenish  "  verdomptische  schweinen,"  he  proclaimed 
anathema  on  all  the  kings  of  the  earth. 

Now  Lady  Lulu  was  a  remarkable  person,  known  at 
every  great  court  in  Europe,  as  well  as  several  small  ones. 
Born  to  a  great  name  and  early  married  to  one  still 
greater,  she  had  deserted  both  to  become  the  companion 
of  daring  and  adventurous  men,  princes  or  gamblers, 
crowned  kings  of  the  earth  or  gentlemen  highwaymen. 
All  that  the  Lady  Lulu  demanded  of  her  lovers  was  that 
they  should  in  no  sense  fail  her.  And  that  in  intercourse 
with  her  they  should  be  ready  at  all  moments  to  show 
their  valour  and  conduct  themselves  as  men.  Lady  Lulu 
preferred    physical    to    moral    advantages.      She   passed 


260  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

from  one  to  another  with  the  air  of  one  in  a  rich  garden, 
picking  a  fruit  here  and  there  with  a  careless  wilful 
pleasure. 

And  in  this  lay  her  charm,  or  at  least  one  of  her  charms, 
for  she  was  a  kaleidoscopic  person  and  showed  a  com- 
plete range  of  rainbow  facets  to  each  new  possessor. 

Wholly  without  self-interest  was  the  Lady  Lulu,  not 
venal,  frank,  and  willing  to  tell  a  man  when  she  liked 
him,  equally  frank  of  discourse  when  she  liked  another 
better. 

They  entered  unannounced.  A  voice  from  a  figure 
sitting  cross-leg  on  cushions  before  a  mirror  cried 
"  Cuckoo "  over  a  bare  white  shoulder  and  went  on 
arranging  blonde  curls  about  a  low  brow.  A  loose  robe 
of  pale  blue  muslin  caught  about  the  waist  with  a  bevy 
of  butterflies,  the  colours  eminently  well  imitated  in 
precious  stones,  enveloped  her  beauty  without  concealing 
it.  She  had  kicked  off  her  broidered  Turkish  slippers, 
and  the  alabaster  of  one  bare  foot  peeped  out,  the  toes 
rosy,  restless,  and  mobile. 

Something  in  the  mirror  warned  the  lady  of  the 
presence  of  strangers.  She  turned  easily  as  on  a  pivot, 
glancing  up  at  them  and  covering  up  her  bare  feet  with 
exaggerated  modesty  in  the  semi-transparent  veil. 

"  Lady  Princess,"  said  Hal,  respectfully  bowing,  his 
ridiculous  pointed  hat  under  his  arm,  "  I  am  charged 
by  the  Prince  Maurice  to  beg  you  to  come  with  us  to  our 
poor  encampment  in  the  corner  yonder  under  the  trees." 

The  Lady  Lulu  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Why  say  you  so?  Of  course  I  will,"  she  cried,  rising 
erect  and  extending  an  arm  from  which  the  wide  sleeve 
fell  back  showing  a  warm  whiteness  which  culminated  in 
a  gold-flecked  armpit. 

"  Why,  you  are  my  forbidden  fruit.  I  was  not  allowed 
to  see  you  or  go  near  your  camp,  and  now,  you  tell  me 
Maurice  sends  me  to  you  of  his  own  accord.  Eve,  can 
you  resist?  " 


THE  LADY  LULU  261 

Hal  began  to  explain,  but  the  Lady  Lulu  did  not  seem 
to  pay  much  attention.  She  stepped  forward,  bringing 
with  her  a  heady  swirl  of  blonde  perfume. 

She  pulled  aside  the  weighty  official  robe,  dropped  it 
suddenly  and  laughed. 

"  There,  I  knew  it,"  she  cried,  "  you  are  no  old  grey- 
beard, but  a  very  proper  young  man.  I  knew  it,  when 
they  told  me  how  you  disarmed  that  roistering  jack- 
pudding  of  a  William  Make.  Wizard  or  no,  that  is  no 
old  man's  task,  and  oh,  your  lovely  slave-boy !  I  could 
kiss  him  and  shall.    Come,  let  us  flee. 

"  Why  should  youth   and   beauty  stay. 
Love  has  wings  and  will  away. 
Pleasures  shorter  are  tliaii  day. 
Wherefore  should  we  then  delay?" 

She  had  taken  his  hand  and  was  proceeding  to  the  door, 
her  large  liquid  eyes  looking  at  him  languishingly  and 
with  visible  provocation. 

But  Hal  was  faithful  to  his  trust.  He  looked  well 
about  the  chamber  and  removed  a  Castilian  mantilla 
from  a  bedpost.  He  took  down  a  long,  black  wrap-rascal 
cloak  from  the  pin  whereon  hung  the  Prince's  cavalry 
sword,  and  threw  it  about  Lady  Lulu's  shoulders.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  done  enough,  but  Sidi's  eyes 
saw  more  clearly. 

"  Take  her  away,  my  master,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  follow." 
And  drawing  a  great  bedspread  of  rose  silk,  covered  with 
lace  fine  as  spider's  web,  the  slave  began  to  collect  within 
it  all  the  objects  which  struck  his  fancy  as  unmeet  for 
the  chamber  of  a  cavalry  commander  and  the  brother  of 
hard-riding  Rupert. 

From  the  table  he  picked  powder-puffs,  and  rouge  in 
dainty  shells,  with  perfumes  in  small  round  Venice 
flagons.  A  pair  of  La  Valliere  corsets  in  flowered  silk 
trailed  on  the  carpet,  their  purple  silken  lacets  disordered 
by  the  haste  of  removal.    A  lace  cap  and  a  long  night  rail 


262  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

ornamented  the  shutter  knobs,  and  a  morning  wrapper 
marked  as  having  been  made  by  "  Madame  LafoUie,  Rue 
des  Reservoirs  a  Versailles,"  hung  over  the  back  of  a 
chair.  All  these  and  a  score  of  other  things,  kerchiefs 
and  slippers,  stomachers  and  aprons,  ribbons  and  wisps  of 
embroidery,  went  into  the  bedspread  of  rose  and  cream 
upon  the  floor. 

Before  Sidi  of  the  Silver  Collar  finished  with  Prince 
Maurice's  quarters,  not  only  haughty  Charles  but  jealous 
Henrietta  Maria  herself  might  safely  have  inspected  them. 
Then  with  his  load  the  slave-boy  took  his  way  unob- 
served along  the  shady  walk  which  led  to  the  Palisades, 
for  so  the  Wizard's  camp  was  called,  from  the  high  fence 
which  shut  it  out  from  view. 

With  wise  and  silent  skill  Sidi  arranged  the  cushions 
and  bedspread  upon  the  rugs  which  the  Prince  had  sent 
them  for  their  encampment.  The  Lady  Lulu  was  in- 
stantly at  home,  all  the  more  so  that  she  had  her  per- 
sonal belongings  about  her.  She  couched  luxuriously 
upon  the  cushions,  drawing  in  and  extending  her  toes 
like  a  purring  kitten.  Her  fingers  netted  themselves  be- 
hind her  head  and  she  reclined  on  a  corner  of  the  rosy 
coverlet,  lazily  pushing  out  one  bare  foot  or  rhythmically 
retracting  and  extending  a  knee  in  a  manner  fitted  to  play 
havoc  with  St.  Anthony. 

"  So — I  am  banished,"  she  said  laughingly,  "  and  by 
decree  royal.  Come,  Master  Wizard,  sit  beside  me  and 
of  your  wisdom,  tell  me  why?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Hal,  "  because  the  King  loves  you  too 
little  or  because  his  Highness  the  Prince  loves  you  too 
much !  " 

The  Lady  Lulu  frowned  and  pouted  with  adorable 
nonchalance.  "  And  yet,"  she  said,  "  I  am  of  as  good 
blood  as  any  Stuart  in  all  Scotland,  and  better  than  all 
Rhineland  princes  from  Holland  to  the  Three  Crowns  of 
Basel !  "  She  waved  a  light  hand,  small  as  a  child's,  with 
rosy  nails  tinted  like  sea-shell,  which  she  clicked   like 


THE  LADY  LULU  263 

castanets  against  her  teeth  and  then  tossed  a  kiss 
in  the  direction  of  Prince  Maurice's  quarters. 

"  That  for  the  royal  shanks  of  King  Stork,"  she  cried 
mockingly.  "  Heaven  pity  the  woman  who  loves  a  stock- 
fish. He  would  do  nothing  but  confess  each  day's  trans- 
gressions to  Bishop  Juxon,  or  Master  Laud.  Worse  still, 
he  would  go  off  weeping  to  make  peace  with  his  Henrietta, 
who  is  the  better  man  of  the  two.  Well,  they  are  all  off 
next  week.  That  is  one  comfort  to  think  on.  The  King 
goes  to  the  south  with  twenty  thousand.  Rupert  makes 
another  push  for  the  north — Lancashire  at  least,  and 
Prince  Maurice,  though  he  knows  it  not  yet,  rides  with 
him.  We  shall  be  left  alone,  my  sweet  captors.  I  shall 
learn  magic,  i'faith — all  that  you  can  teach  me,  while  I 
shall  teach  you  such  witchcraft  as  is  not  to  be  learned 
under  the  twelve  signs  of  the  Zodiac." 

They  sat  long  thus,  the  lady  half  reclined  on  Hal's 
shoulder,  and  Sidi  at  his  master's  feet  looking  on  the 
ground,  his  hands  joined  palm  to  palm  and  his  head 
bowed  with  Oriental  submission.  The  Lady  Lulu  looked 
at  him  often,  taking  him  all  in  from  his  silken  skull  cap 
and  braided  pigtail,  his  red  lips  and  almond  eyes  to  the 
brown-sandalled  feet  and  ankles  about  which  the  silver 
chains  looped  and  tinkled.  It  was  clear  that  she  had 
never  seen  anything  like  Sidi  the  Slave  of  Melchior  the 
Wise  Man  from  Mesopotamia.  Most  curiously  of  all  she 
regarded  his  silver  collar.  It  fascinated  her,  and  of  all 
desires,  that  of  the  unknown  was  the  most  itchingly  keen 
with  the  Lady  Lulu. 

"  Come  hither,  child,"  she  said,  beckoning  to  Sidi ; 
"  come  and  sit  beside  me.  I  would  give — not  all  that  I 
possess,  for  that  is  never  any  great  matter,  but  all  I 
might  possess  if  so  I  pleased,  to  have  such  a  slave.  For 
how  much  will  you  sell  him,  wise  Melchior?  " 

"  Not  for  money,"  quoth  Hal ;  "  he  is  as  my  own 
son — my  child,  and  I  will  neither  sell  nor  part  with 
him." 


264  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Ah,"  sighed  the  Lady  Lulu,  "  I  feared  as  much — then 
you  will  have  to  take  me  with  you  and  let  me  work 
magic — for  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  you  both.  I  am 
nothing  if  not  frank." 

And  she  encircled  each  with  an  arm,  but  withdrew  her 
left  with  a  hasty  cry  as  the  rounded  softness  encountered 
the  chill  of  the  metal  collar  of  rough  silver. 

Instantly  she  was  on  her  knees  before  Sidi,  trying  to 
undo  the  padlock  with  her  slender  fingers. 

"  Oh,  I  cannot — I  cannot  loosen  it.  Do  you,  quick, 
Sidi,  quick !  "  And  the  blood  rose  to  her  cheek  and 
flushed  her  delicate  body  under  the  vaporous  folds  of 
muslin.  A  pulse  beat  visibly  in  her  neck.  Her  eyes 
glowed  large  and  mystic,  as  though  their  dark  softness 
would  overflow  her  face,  and  the  ruby-winged  butterflies 
of  her  drooping  cincture  glowed  over  a  golden  foam  as 
of  sparkling  wine.  Her  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  her 
quick  breathing,  and  in  every  nerve  and  fibre  she  was 
a  woman  alive,  eager  for  the  satisfaction  of  her  desire 
of  the  moment.  She  clapped  her  hands  together  with 
that  impatience  which  of  a  princess  had  made  the  Lady 
Lulu. 

"  Quick,  open,  open !  I  will  it.  You  must  open  or  I 
shall  die." 

The  Mage  took  the  key  from  about  his  neck  and  in  a 
moment  the  collar  swung  free.  She  handled  it  with 
childish  pleasure.  "  Oh,  how  soft.  It  is  padded  with 
leather  delicate  as  a  lady's  glove !  "  And  she  rubbed  it 
against  her  cheek,  murmuring,  "  Soft,  soft !  " 

Then  with  a  proud  humility  she  poised  it  about  her 
own  slender  neck.  When  Hal  pointed  out  the  inscription 
cut  upon  it,  she  examined  it  carefully. 

"  Sidi,  slave  of  Melchior  the  Mage." 

"  I  also  will  be  your  slave,"  she  cried  with  a  sudden 
catch  of  her  voice,  and  clasping  it  round  her  neck  she  let 
the  catch  click,  and  snatching  the  key,  she  locked  it  and 
flung  the  key  over  the  palisades. 


THE  LADY  LULU  265 

"  Now  you  cannot  help  taking  me  with  you,  for  I  dare 
not  go  back  to  Maurice,  and  what  is  more  I  will  not. 
Maurice — what  is  Maurice  to  me  ?  There  is  no  Maurice. 
There  never  was  a  Maurice  in  the  world,  or  a  Rupert  or 
any  other  man  except  you !  " 

Soon  she  quieted  a  little.  "  But  for  all,  it  is  the  time 
for  eating,"  she  said,  "  Go,  Sidi,  and  bring  a  provision 
from  Brunner,  the  cook.  Tell  him  it  is  for  me  and  he  will 
pile  your  platter  and  fill  your  wine-basket.  Oh,  a  brave 
man,  Brunner.  Haste  to  go,  Sidi.  I  have  much  to  say 
to  your  master." 

What  the  lady  said  and  how  she  said  it  must  be  the 
subject  of  a  new  chapter  of  history,  because  many  matters 
historical  and  otherwise  depend  upon  that  conversation. 

Sidi  being  temporarily  removed  by  her  orders,  this 
was  the  manner  of  Lady  Lulu's  communings  with  his 
master.  In  the  warm  dusk  of  the  tent  she  clung  suddenly 
about  him.  Her  lips  sought  his  and  the  Lady  Lulu 
affirmed  by  unmistakable  signs  that,  after  many  mistakes, 
she  had  indeed  found  her  long-sought  lord  and  master. 
Even  while,  with  the  instinctive  subtlety  of  youth  re- 
sponding to  youth,  the  Mage  soothed  her  to  the  com- 
parative quiet  of  recognisant  sighs  and  a  happy  April  of 
mingled  tears  and  smiles,  he  still  kept  clear  and  dominant 
his  Puritan  head.  The  object  of  his  mission  was  not  to 
pleasure  the  Lady  Lulu  nor  a  score  like  her,  but  to  find 
out  the  movements  and  numbers  of  the  King's  troops 
and  the  intentions  of  his  generals. 

For  this  purpose  the  Lady  Lulu  might  serve  him  per- 
fectly. Hal  was  a  youth  of  some  experience  before 
taking  service  with  Hog  Lane  and  Oliver.  He  had  been 
at  college  and  had  lived  in  London  with  his  father.  He 
knew  that  such  sudden  passions  as  the  Lady  Lulu's  were 
like  fires  among  whins,  quickly  alight,  blazing  high,  and 
as  quickly  sinking  to  red  embers  and  dead  ashes.  Let 
him  profit,  then,  while  the  fit  lasted. 


^66  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

She  drew  him  down  beside  her  and  regarded  him  with 
lustrous,  over-brimming  eyes,  under  eyeHds  so  heavy  and 
languid  that  each  moment  they  seemed  ready  to  close. 
Her  lips  were  red  and  her  breathing  quick  and  troubled 
like  a  sea  subsiding  after  storm,  as  she  reared  herself  on 
her  elbow  to  look  down  into  his  soul. 

Hal  Ludlow  let  her  look  her  fill.  He  knew  well  that 
she  could  not  see  what  was  in  his  soul.  He  was  a  direct, 
and  as  the  times  went,  fairly  honest  young  man,  but  he 
was  well  advised  how  to  profit  by  such  circumstances. 
The  modern  scruple  had  not  yet  arisen,  and  men  took 
what  the  gods  gave  without  remorse,  knowing  well  that 
it  was  their  business  to  benefit  by  the  follies  and  wilful- 
ness of  women,  or  at  least  of  such  women  as  the  Lady 
Lulu.  Yes,  he  would  pay  her  with  the  money  she  de- 
sired, full  tale  and  a  bounty  over.  Love  was  a  word 
which  would  be  much  in  the  lady's  mouth,  but  the  clear- 
headed youth  knew  well  that  if  youth  and  warm  blood 
answered  for  him,  Lady  Lulu  would  be  satisfied. 

Now  Hal  Ludlow  had  no  particular  desire  to  make 
love.  Nor,  left  alone,  would  he  have  done  it.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  in  the  interests  of  the  Cause,  he  had  no 
objection  to  being  made  love  to.  And  that  precisely  was 
the  door  which  fate  was  opening  out  to  him. 

"  Well,  cost  what  it  would,"  said  the  young  man  to 
himself,  with  unconscious  hypocrisy,  "  he  would  go  on  to 
the  end  till  every  scheme  of  the  King  and  his  counsellors 
was  an  open  book  to  him.  What  else  were  such  women 
for  ?  The  great  pity  which  would  have  filled  the  soul  in  a 
more  sensitive  or  sentimental  age,  the  chivalry  of  the 
books  of  bygone  romances,  troubled  him  no  whit.  He 
was  in  no  danger.  The  flame  might  warm  but  would 
not  scorch  him.  He  loved,  as  he  had  ever  done,  the  Lady 
Molly  Woodham — and  in  his  rude,  hectoring,  masterful 
way  he  was  faithful  to  her,  but  if  Bess  Cromwell  pressed 
his  foot  under  the  table  till  she  lost  her  slipper,  if  Lulu, 
the  uprooted  Princess,  cast  herself  into  his  arms,  what 


THE  LADY  LULU  267 

did  it  cost  to  show  himself  not  insensible?  Hal  of  the 
Ironsides,  the  Puritan  with  the  panache,  possessed  the 
morals  of  his  time  and  class,  which  were  not  those  of  a 
sectary  like  Zered  or  an  enthusiast  like  Cromwell.  He 
had  lived  among  the  enthusiastic  young  royalists  of  his 
college,  without  partaking  of  their  opinions,  yet  in  his 
manner  of  life  he  was  of  them.  He  had  watched  under 
his  father's  roof  the  wiles  and  stratagems  of  Parlia- 
mentary leaders,  and  so  far  he  had  learned  the  game  of 
caution.  But  he  was  not  of  that  faction.  He  had  the 
instinct  of  the  born  soldier,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  not  in 
committee  that  the  King  could  be  checkmated.  One  man 
only  could  win  for  the  parliament,  and  so  while  his  ancient 
friends  were  flocking  to  join  the  royal  standard,  Hal 
Ludlow  became  a  common  soldier  in  the  Slepe  Troop. 
He  saw  his  chance  and  made  a  weapon  of  the  fanaticism 
of  Hog  Lane.  Now,  once  more  Fate  stood  on  tiptoe. 
This  fancy,  sudden  and  passionate,  of  the  Lady  Lulu 
would  speedily  fade  and  disappear.  But  all  the  more 
reason,  then,  why  while  it  lasted  it  should  be  used 
by  a  practical  young  man  zealous  for  the  good  of  the 
Cause. 

Strangely  enough,  in  making  this  severe  sacrifice  to  the 
good  of  the  Commonwealth  of  England,  Hal  was  wholly 
unconscious  of  the  real  sacrifice  which  was  being  made 
for  him — that  of  the  youth,  the  beauty,  and  the  life  of 
Nefia  la  Fain.  Her  conduct  seemed  so  natural  to  this 
spoilt  young  man  that  he  actually  thought  no  more  of 
her  self-abnegation  than  if  she  had  really  been  Sidi,  the 
slave  of  the  Mage  Melchior  from  Mesopotamia.  H  Hal 
Ludlow,  indeed,  came  from  that  country,  he  had  been 
born  some  distance  from  the  innocence  encircled  by  the 
Eden  wall  and  watched  by  the  flaming  sword  which 
turned  every  way. 

Presently  Sidi  returned  with  a  piled  tray  upon  his 
head,  while  a  pair  of  kitchen  scullions  clinked  table- 
ware and   bottles  outside.     Hal   went  to  the   door   to 


268  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

scatter  small  change,  but  Sidi  would  have  none  of  this 
waste. 

"  They  are  well  paid,"  he  whispered,  and  then,  turning 
to  the  camp  followers,  he  commanded,  "  Come  back  in  an 
hour  for  the  dishes." 

They  ate  and  drank  gaily.  The  Lady  Lulu,  rejoicing 
to  cast  off  the  etiquette  of  princely  establishments, 
bubbled  over  with  tales  of  Versailles  and  Vienna,  Flor- 
ence and  Modena. 

"  When  I  am  your  slave  we  shall  go  thither  again,  and 
where  I  have  ruled  as  princess  I  shall  dance  on  the  plat- 
form under  the  torches  to  draw  you  an  audience !  " 

And  Hal  nodded  assent,  smiling  approval,  but  well 
determined  that  the  Lady  Lulu  should  return  to  Prince 
Maurice  that  very  night,  that  she  might  learn  the  result 
of  the  deliberations  of  the  King's  generals  about  the 
royal  council-board. 

And  during  the  meal  the  chains  at  Sidi's  wrists  and 
ankles  chimed  softly,  and  the  Lady  Lulu  turned  to  look 
in  his  dusky  face. 

"  Oh,  Sidi,  you  and  I  have  a  noble  master — one  for 
whom  a  woman  would  be  content  to  die !  " 

"  Even  so,"  said  Sidi  imperturbably,  and  served  the 
golden  Moselle  wine. 


XXX 

A  CROMWELL  OF  WOMEN 

HAL  had  never  taken  himself  for  a  great  man,  but 
wholly  without  knowing  it  he  was  in  his  way  a 
Cromwell  of  women.  He  not  only  succeeded  in 
making  the  Lady  Lulu  help  him,  but  induced  her  to  take 
off  the  silver  collar  after  Sidi  had  climbed  the  palisades 
to  retrieve  the  key.  Most  difficult  of  all  he  persuaded 
her  to  return  with  Prince  Maurice  without  too  great 
unwillingness  when  he  came  seeking  her. 

As  a  reward  he  presented  her  with  the  spaniel,  now  in 
excellent  health  and  appetite,  marvellously  cured  of 
snapping  and  all  snarling  humours. 

Strangely  enough  the  King  Charles  failed  entirely  to 
pay  any  attention  to  his  mistress,  but  fawned  upon  Hal 
and  licked  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  Brownie,  Brownie,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  broken 
my  heart — I  who  sat  up  with  you  all  night  when  you  were 
a  little  whining  puppy  with  the  distemper — I,  your  own 
dear  mistress,  you  to  forsake  me  for  that  man !  He  hath 
cast  the  glamour  over  us  both,  and  we  can  only  fawn  at 
his  feet  and  kiss  his  hand." 

Which,  so  far  as  the  Lady  Lulu  was  concerned,  was  a 
somewhat  incomplete  account  of  the  transaction. 

Two  days  afterwards  the  great  camp  at  Oxford  was 
broken  up.  The  King  with  his  chief  advisers,  some 
squadrons  of  my  Lord  Goring's  horse,  and  the  whole 
army  of  foot,  supported  by  a  well-ordered  park  of  artil- 
lery, moved  away  to  the  south  to  join  Greville  and  Sir 
Ralph  Hopeton.    The  West  was  to  be  swept  from  Bristol 

269 


270  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

to  Exeter.  The  fortresses  which  still  held  out  against  the 
King,  garrisoned  by  the  debris  of  Waller's  army,  were  to 
fall  one  by  one.  There  were  traitors  in  many  of  them, 
or  at  least  men  of  a  yielding  disposition,  who,  cut  ofif 
from  all  support  and  despairing  of  relief,  would  be  con- 
tent to  yield  up  their  towns  and  citadels  on  reasonable 
terms — nay,  who  might  even  like  the  Hothams  be  willing 
to  take  service  with  His  Majesty. 

Of  Reading  the  King  was  already  secure.  The  gover- 
nor, a  former  knight  of  the  shire,  was  secretly  in  the  royal 
interest.  The  trainbands  of  London,  few  and  disafifected, 
were  all  that  lay  between  that  town  and  the  capital. 

On  the  other  hand,  Rupert  and  Maurice,  with  the  great 
body  of  the  royal  horsemen,  a  cavalry  force  so  numerous 
that  the  like  of  it  had  never  ridden  behind  a  single  com- 
mander in  England,  were  to  sweep  northwards,  gathering 
recruits  from  the  borders  of  Wales,  joined  by  all  Lanca- 
shire, that  stronghold  of  loyal  Catholic  gentlemen,  and, 
avoiding  the  sluggish  and  ill-paid  Scots,  the  whole  array 
was  to  fall  upon  Cromwell  in  the  Eastern  Counties  at 
the  very  moment  when  he  was  distracted  by  the  loss  of 
Reading  and  the  news  of  the  march  of  the  King's  south- 
ern army  upon  London. 

It  was  urgent,  therefore,  that  General  Cromwell  should 
have  news  of  this  great  combined  movement.  But  Hal 
did  not  dare  to  provoke  the  Lady  Lulu  by  any  hasty 
attempt  at  flight.  So  passionate  a  lady  was  quite  capable 
of  denouncing  her  faithless  friend  to  Rupert,  and  of 
repenting  only  after  the  bullets  of  the  firing  party  had 
done  their  work. 

Then,  indeed,  her  sorrow  would  be  intense,  her  repent- 
ance and  remorse  without  bounds,  but  these  would  do 
him  or  the  Cause  but  little  good.  On  the  whole,  it  would 
be  safer  to  postpone  any  thought  of  departure  until  the 
break-up  of  the  camp  at  Oxford. 

It  was  all  one  to  the  Lady  Lulu.  After  dark  she  sat  on 
the  roof  of  the  caravan  cloaked  and  masked,  listening  to 


A  CROMWELL  OF  WOMEN  271 

the  clatter  of  question  and  answer,  the  changing  patter  of 
the  salesman,  the  quick  judging  of  characters  necessary 
for  the  fortune-telling,  and  felt  that  she  had  found  her 
career  at  last.  She  could  have  gone  down  among  them 
there  and  then,  but  for  her  fear  of  what  the  princes  might 
do  to  her  new  idol. 

When  once  Maurice  was  safely  off  in  the  train  of  his 
whirlwind  brother,  she  would  be  free  to  masquerade  in 
spangled  tights  before  the  booths  of  fairs.  The  prospect 
smiled  upon  her  and  set  her  body  swaying  and  her  feet 
tingling  to  be  dancing  to  the  rattle  of  her  castanets  and 
the  wilder  strains  of  Sidi's  cornemuse  before  the  inhabi- 
tants of  peaceful  towns  or  under  the  shadow  of  tall  ash 
trees  on  distant  village  greens,  the  sunset  dying  rich 
behind  in  a  flurry  of  scarlet  and  gold. 

She  did  not  ask  herself  how  long  such  a  life  would  con- 
tent her.  She  had  wearied  of  many  things.  So  she  might 
of  this.  But  in  the  meanwhile  she  longed  for  it  all  the 
more  strongly  that  it  seemed  impossible  of  realization. 

During  the  days  of  final  preparation  the  Prince  had 
little  time  for  her  society.  His  brother's  ardour  carried 
him  off  his  feet,  and  he  was  all  day  drilling  troops  and 
loading  waggons.  The  Lady  Lulu,  thus  left  to  her  own 
free  will,  spent  the  whole  of  her  time  in  the  small  orchard 
enclosure  where  was  the  encampment  of  the  Mage  Mel- 
chior  and  Sidi  his  servant. 

And  because  it  interested  the  Wise  Man,  she  babbled 
complaisantly  of  the  latest  plans  and  preparations  of  the 
royal  armies,  of  lines  of  communication,  and  the  strength 
and  fitness  of  regiments — how  Rupert  said  that  the 
Welshmen  made  the  best  foot  if  only  there  were  time  to 
train  them,  and  how  he  had  promised  to  be  careful  of  his 
gentlemen  riders,  because  (as  he  said)  there  were  no 
more  where  they  came  from.  Marston  Moor  had  noways 
discouraged  Prince  Rupert,  but  it  had  taught  him  some 
elementary  caution. 

On  the  evening  before  the  breaking  up  of  the  Oxford 


272  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

camp,  Hal  had  made  all  the  plans  for  his  own  escape. 
He  had  the  grace  to  feel  some  rudimentary  qualms  of 
compunction  in  face  of  the  glowing  delight  of  the  Lady 
Lulu,  who  babbled  of  freedom  and  of  the  dancing  costume 
she  was  preparing  in  secret. 

But  after  all  (he  told  himself)  it  was  but  a  woman's 
whim,  a  fancy  like  so  many  others  which  had  had  their 
season,  blooming  and  withering  betwixt  sunrise  and  sun- 
set of  a  summer's  day.  Yet  he  had  no  scruples  about 
using  her  horses  in  order  to  escape  out  of  the  city.  She 
could  get  him  the  King's  pass,  which,  with  Rupert's, 
would  carry  him  anywhere. 

But  it  was  ridiculous  even  to  think  of  a  Lady  Lulu 
among  the  camps  of  Cromwell.  What  would  Hog  Lane 
say  to  her?  With  what  unanimity  would  they  cast  their 
Captain  out.  Only  Sidi  must  know,  and  Sidi  did  not 
matter.  As  she  herself  said,  the  Lady  Lulu  was  "  a 
deep  well  from  which  many  men  might  drink."  And  so 
Hal,  with  the  easy  morality  of  his  age  and  class,  was 
grateful  for  the  inestimable  information  which  she  had 
given  him,  but  entirely  free  from  any  remorse — con- 
sidering, perhaps  correctly,  that  he  had  paid  the  lady 
well  enough  for  her  favours  and  complicities.  After  all, 
he  had  asked  nothing  of  her,  made  no  promises,  seduced 
her  from  no  vows.  She  had  fallen  into  his  arms  like  a 
ripe  fruit,  and  if  she  had  waxed  romantic  over  village 
greens  and  dancing  by  the  light  of  torches  under  im- 
memorial elms,  she  had  had  the  imagination  and  ex- 
pectation which  Hal  knew  would  have  proved  by  far 
the  better  part.  Soon  she  w^ould  have  wearied  of  the 
crowded  tent,  of  the  narrow  caravan  bumping  along  the 
uneven  bridle-paths  or  stuck  in  the  sloughs  of  mud  left 
by  the  autumnal  rains.  Better  that  he  should  leave  her 
to  what,  after  all,  was  her  life — to  camps  and  courts  and 
the  society  of  the  great. 

So  at  least  argued  Hal  Ludlow,  a  young  gentleman  of 
an  easy  and  self-congratulatory  conscience. 


XXXI 

"HOG  LANE  AND  COLONEL  LUDLOW!" 

TWO  days  afterwards  Captain  Hal  Ludlow,  worn 
with  hard  riding,  was  entering  the  presence  of 
General  Cromwell  presently  in  garrison  at  Ely, 
while  a  transformed  Sidi,  in  the  dress  of  her  sex,  slowly 
and  sadly  drove  a  pair  of  grey  asses  across  country  in  the 
direction  of  Osea  Island. 

General  Cromwell  was  little  changed  from  the  tall 
soldierly  man  who  was  seen  in  early  chapters  tossing  his 
little  girls  upon  his  shoulders.  His  hair  was  a  little  more 
grizzled  about  the  temples,  perhaps,  his  face  thinner  and 
more  commanding.  He  had  the  look  of  a  man  whose  will 
was  law,  but  the  victor  of  Marston  Moor  who  now  re- 
ceived Hal  was  the  same  Colonel  Cromwell  who  in  that 
same  garden,  within  sight  of  that  grey  dial,  had  broken 
him  for  "  petticoating."  But  now  Hal  in  conscious 
virtue  awaited  his  chief,  quite  oblivious  of  the  distant 
angers  of  the  Lady  Lulu  and  the  lonely  figure  trudging 
through  the  green  Essex  lanes  in  the  direction  of  the  tall 
trees  of  Osea  Island. 

"  You  are  welcome,  sir,"  said  Cromwell  as  he  threw 
himself  upon  a  garden  seat  and  beckoned  Hal  to  take 
another.  But  Hal  was  far  too  excited.  He  sat  down 
indeed,  in  obedience  to  a  command,  and  in  an  instant 
he  was  up  again,  hot  on  his  tale,  striding  up  and  down 
as  he  told  of  Oxford,  of  Rupert,  of  Maurice,  and  of  the 
King — of  Lady  Lulu  also  (but  here  he  trod  lightly  over 
the  ground),  and  all  the  time  Cromwell  sat  back,  his  chin 
upon  his  clenched  knuckles,  watching  him  intently. 

"  You  have  no  notes  ?  "  he  said  presently.    "  Nothing 

273 


274.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

on  paper — numbers  are  often  hard  to  carry  long  in  the 
head." 

"  Nothing,"  said  Hal,  rather  taken  aback.  "  In  fact, 
sir,  I  thought  it  better  not.  I  was  compelled  to  run  very 
considerable  risks.  But  I  have  made  no  mistakes.  Be 
sure  of  that.  I  repeated  each  set  of  figures  over  and  over 
till  I  could  not  forget.    I  trusted  my  memory." 

"  So  ?  "  said  the  General.  "  Well,  we  shall  see.  Go 
now  and  change  into  uniform." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot,  sir ;  I  have  only  these  clothes 
in  which  I  stand  up,  which  I  had  from  a  good  friend  of 
the  Cause  in  a  house  near  Amersham  where  I  sheltered." 

Cromwell  smiled  quietly. 

"  Go  to  your  old  quarters  in  Mr.  Commissioner's  house 
and  there  you  will  find  most  of  your  old  command.  I 
rather  thought  we  might  have  need  of  them  when  you 
should  come  back.  Zered  Tuby  has  your  kit.  But  come 
back  at  eight  for  the  Council — Fleetwood,  Ireton,  and 
Montague  will  be  here." 

"  But— but,"  objected  Hal,  a  little  breathlessly,  "  that 
is  a  Colonels'  council !  " 

"And  what  of  that,  sir?"  said  Cromwell  grimly. 

"  But " 

"  But  me  not  buts,"  interrupted  Cromwell ;  "  do  you 
think  nobody  has  been  doing  anything  except  yourself? 
There  is  a  new  regiment  of  Cambridgeshire  men  wanting 
a  colonel.  Well,  I  appoint  you.  Here  is  your  commis- 
sion.   What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  Can  I  take  Hog  Lane  with  me  ? — I  cannot  go  with- 
out." 

"  You  are  a  peculiar  people  indeed,  you  Hog  Laners. 
Zered  had  the  face  to  tell  me  that  if  you  did  not  com- 
mand them,  every  man  would  go  home.  Aye,  and  the 
rascal  stuck  to  it  though  I  threatened  him  with  the 
hangman." 

But  there  was  something  in  Oliver's  tone  which  in- 
timated that  he  was  not  angry.     "  Well,"  he  continued 


"HOG  LANE  AND  COLONEL  LUDLOW!"     275 

in  an  altered  voice,  "  I  suppose  you  can  take  them.  They 
are  veterans  and  will  firm  the  backs  of  the  Cambridgers 
— overawe  them  too,  for  there  are  a  few  of  the  stiff- 
necked  among  them.  Now  go.  Take  some  rest,  Colonel 
Ludlow,  and  do  not  forget  eight  o'clock.  No — no  thanks. 
I  count  myself  lucky!  " 

Hal  trod  on  viewless  air.  How  he  reached  his  father's 
house,  he  never  knew.  The  few  who  recognised  him  in 
his  weather-stained  country  clothes  had  to  pass  on  with- 
out any  answer  to  their  jovial  salutations  and  inquiries 
as  to  what  he  was  doing  in  masquerade  dress  at  that  time 
of  day. 

Somehow,  however,  his  coming  had  been  anticipated. 
Zered,  with  his  new  Captain's  badge  at  sleeve  and  helmet, 
came  forward  to  receive  him  and  Hog  Lane,  excited  and 
unanimous  behind  him,  saluted  him  with  shouts  of, 
"  God  keep  you,  Colonel."  "  Hog  Lane  and  Colonel 
Ludlow !  "  "  We  shall  show  the  Cambridgers  what  a 
charge  means !  "  "  Aye,  and  Rupert  too — as  we  did  at 
Marston  Moor." 

They  broke  ranks  and  swarmed  about  him,  grasping 
his  hands  and  finally  carrying  him  on  their  shoulders 
to  where  his  father  appeared  on  the  portico,  made  a  little 
anxious  by  the  shouting  within  his  quiet  precincts. 

Hal  stood  before  his  father  with  more  of  emotion 
rising  in  his  throat  than  he  had  ever  known  in  all  his 
"  petticoating."  The  ring  of  these  men's  voices  wel- 
coming him  home  gripped  him  by  the  throat.  He  could 
not  thank  them.  He  could  not  speak  to  his  father.  He 
had  never  felt  like  this  before.  Was  it  possible  that  he, 
a  Colonel  of  Ironsides,  was  going  to  cry?  Certainly  not, 
but  still  a  good  deal  of  honest  moisture  stood  in  his  eyes. 

His  father  was  taking  the  commission  out  of  his  hands 
when  he  came  to  himself.  He  had  not  been  conscious 
that  he  had  carried  it  all  the  way  through  the  city  as  if 
it  had  been  a  banner  in  a  procession. 


276  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Well,  lad,"  said  the  nobly  attired  Commissioner, 
"  what  is  this  you  have  found  ?  Come,  you  serve  it  upon 
me  as  if  it  were  a  writ.  Have  you  learned  no  better 
manners  than  that  at  Court?  " 

But  the  old  man  was  proud  of  his  son,  and  even  while 
jesting  stood  patting  him  on  the  shoulder  before  all  Hog 
Lane,  at  respectful  attention. 

"  This  is  a  great  day,  Colonel  Ludlow,"  he  said ;  "  a 
great  day  for  me  and  for  our  family.  Come  your 
ways  in." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  house,  but  Hal  turned  towards 
Hog  Lane  and  struggled  not  to  leave  them  without  a 
grateful  word. 

"  I    cannot — I    cannot "    he    began    and    stopped 

twice. 

"  Wait  till  thou  hast  to  exhort  the  Cambridgers  to  fall 
on,  then  thou  wilt  talk  fast  enough !  "  The  voice  from 
the  ranks  was  an  infringement  of  discipline,  but  it  con- 
veyed the  sense  of  Hog  Lane  so  completely  that  Zered 
let  it  pass. 

After  Hal  had  enjoyed  the  supreme  luxury  of  a  bath, 
he  entered  his  room  to  which,  during  his  absence,  a  large 
box  had  been  transported.  To  the  lid  was  attached  a 
card  which  read : — 

From  Mr.  Commissioner  Ludlow, 

to  Colonel  Henry  Ludlow. 

It  contained  a  full  new  suit  of  Colonel's  uniform,  sent 
expressly  from  London  with  a  plume  and  badge  of  the 
new  regimental  colours,  scarlet  and  white.  The  helmet 
and  armour  were  magnificent,  the  best  work  of  Liege, 
and  Hal  felt  that  he  must  put  them  on  in  order  to  please 
his  father.  He  was  conscious  that  the  door  behind  him 
had  opened  a  little  and  that  his  father  was  watching  him. 
So  he  acted  a  delight  he  was  very  far  from  feeling,  and 
promised  himself  to  slip  into  the  old  hacked  armour  and 


«HOG  LANE  AND  COLONEL  LUDLOW!"     277 

weather-rusty  trappings  which  Zered  had  so  carefully 
brought  him  before  the  hour  of  eight.  He  could  never 
go  among  Ireton,  Fleetwood,  and  the  rest  of  Crom- 
well's etdt  major  looking  like  a  peacock  with  a  new 
tail. 

Still,  he  appeared  delighted  with  everything,  and  was 
rewarded  when  he  saw  the  old  gentleman's  tears  when 
his  son  stood  up  before  him. 

"  My  Hal,"  he  muttered.  "  A  colonel  at  twenty-one — 
oh,  if  only  Mary  had  been  here  to  see  it !  " 

But  the  clock  had  not  struck  the  hour  of  eight  when 
■from  a  house  in  Hog  Lane  issued  a  much  more  workman- 
like figure  than  had  entered  Zered  Tuby's  low  doorway. 
That  dinted  "  pot  "  had  borne  the  brunt  of  twoscore 
good  charges.  The  battered  breastplate,  the  twisted 
silver  spurs,  the  rusty  coat  with  almost  invisible  facings, 
only  by  the  necessary  badges  of  his  rank  carefully  sewed 
on  by  Zered — these  added  an  air  of  experience  and  ripe 
age  to  the  youthful  figure  of  the  Colonel  of  Cromwell's 
Second  Cambridgeshire  Horse. 

"  The  others  will  serve  when  the  day  comes  to  make 
him  King !  "  said  Zered,  as  he  packed  them  away  care- 
fully against  the  day  when  the  Ironsides  should  set  above 
all  men  as  ruler  of  England  their  creator  and  idol,  King 
Oliver  the  First. 

Hal  sat  abashed  and  silent  among  the  high  captains — 
all  except  Cromwell  still  young,  but,  as  it  were,  men  of 
war  from  their  youth  up.  Ireton  especially  daunted  the 
new  Colonel.  For  he  was  the  next  man  to  the  General 
in  all  that  great  array,  so  secretly  raised,  so  strongly  offi- 
cered, so  perfect  in  equipment  and  discipline — the  value 
of  which  as  the  Sword  of  the  Lord  was  just  about  to  be 
revealed  to  a  wondering  world — a  world  which  had  never 
seen  such  a  marvel. 

Yet  he  must  fill  in  the  story  as  the  General  told  it, 
and  Hal  blushed  as  the  eyes  of  the  stern  men  turned  upon 
him.    But  he  answered  with  prompt  exactness.    He  was 


278  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

certain  of  the  number  of  each  fighting  unit.  He  could 
point  out  the  weaknesses.  He  knew  the  looseness  of 
the  Welsh,  and  how  the  least  attack,  sudden  and  un- 
expected, would  stampede  them  in  the  direction  of  their 
hills.  He  told  them  how  the  Yorkshire  men  in  Rupert's 
train  swore  that  if  once  they  got  to  the  North  again,  the 
hither  side  of  Blackstone  Edge  would  see  them  no  more — 
how  in  the  hospitals  the  wounded  cursed  the  King's 
commission  of  Array — which  had  brought  them  so  far 
from  home  to  fight  in  a  quarrel  of  which  they  knew 
nothing. 

"  Pay  not  too  much  attention  to  that,"  Ireton  inter- 
rupted. "  I  have  heard  the  London  trainbands  grow 
openly  mutinous  as  Lady  Day  drew  near — ^yet  fight  well 
enough  when  it  came  to  push  of  pikes." 

"  There  is  a  difference,"  said  the  General ;  "  observe 
it,  Ireton.  The  trades  grumbled  as  free  men  missing  good 
money  by  their  soldiering.  But  they  were  free  volunteers 
for  all  that,  and  went  soldiering  because  they  believed 
that  if  they  did  not,  the  King  would  ruin  every  man 
between  Tower  Hill  and  Temple  Bar.  Our  grumblers 
will  go  home  to  their  ellwands  and  scales  if  we  leave  them 
unemployed  after  a  victory,  but  the  King's  pressed  men 
will  scatter  even  before  a  battle  if  they  are  not  herded 
like  sheep." 

Ireton  shook  his  head. 

"  What  would  happen,  sir,  if  you  were  to  fall — aye, 
even  to  the  New  Model  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  would  take  my  place,"  Cromwell's  voice 
rose,  "  and  Fleetwood  yours,  and  Montague  Fleetwood's, 
and  Harry  Ludlow  Montague's.  So  the  division  should 
go  forward  only  one  man  short." 

Then,  no  one  venturing  an  opinion  upon  this,  Cromwell 
put  it  to  the  Colonels  whether  they  should  give  chase 
to  the  King,  or  follow  Rupert  again  to  the  North. 
Cromwell  and  Ireton  were  for  finishing  with  Rupert, 
which  they  could  do  with  their  own  forces,  Fleetwood 


"HOG  LANE  AND  COLONEL  LUDLOW!"     279 

and  Montague  believed  in  joining  forces  with  Fairfax 
and  keeping  between  the  King  and  London. 

"  Our  new  counsellor  sits  silent,"  Cromwell  said 
presently.  "  Colonel  Ludlow,  pray  give  us  your  opinion. 
You  have  but  newly  come  from  Oxford  and  have  seen 
these  things  with  your  eyes." 

Hal  flushed  as  the  grave  eyes  of  the  veterans  were 
turned  upon  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  it  is  my  opinion  that  we 
should  let  the  King  go  South.  No  good  can  be  done 
there,  nor  yet  will  Rupert  do  us  harm  in  the  North.  But 
all  the  King's  forces,  North  and  South,  are  using  Oxford 
as  their  base  of  supplies.  If  we  ride  round  Oxford,  we 
shall  cut  all  lines  of  supply,  as  the  sticks  of  a  lady's  fan 
are  snapped  close  to  the  handle.  We  shall  sweep  up  every 
draught  horse  within  a  hundred  miles,  and  not  a  cannon 
can  be  moved  after  Rupert  or  towards  the  King !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  everyone  looked  at 
the  General.  Cromwell  smiled  grimly  and  a  little  awry. 
Ordinarily  he  did  not  like  it  when  a  better  plan  than  his 
own  was  suggested.  But  Hal  was  of  his  own  making, 
and  he  clapped  his  hand  on  his  knee  triumphantly  and 
looked  round  the  circle.  "  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  That 
the  young  man  would  be  worth  his  place  at  the  board !  " 

And  the  Great  Raid  was  resolved  upon  instantly  and 
well  planned  before  they  separated. 

"  And  Ludlow's  Cambridgers — can  they  ride  with 
us?"  queried  Cromwell. 

"  As  to  that,"  Ireton  answered  him,  "  they  are  not,  of 
course,  all  Hog  Laners.  They  are  not  Huntingdon,  nor 
Dedham,  nor  yet  the  Slepe  Troopers.  But  they  are  as 
good  as  we  were  when  we  charged  on  Gainsborough 
Highway.  Besides,  Hog  Lane  will  tune  them  up  and 
teach  them  humility.    I  vote  for  letting  them  ride." 

Hal  darted  a  grateful  glance  at  the  speaker,  but  Ireton 
was  drumming  with  his  fingers  on  the  table.  Cromwell, 
ever  alert,  his  eyes  seeing  into  every  man's  heart  without 


280  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

having  the  appearance  of  looking,  picked  up  the  message. 
"  Ludlow  is  your  debtor,  Ireton,"  he  said ;  "  a  month's 
drill  and  a  month's  clearing  the  country  would  have  been 
good  for  them,  but  after  all — sohitur  ambulando — we 
can  take  it  out  of  them  as  we  go.  And  their  Colonel  we 
cannot  leave  behind.  That  would  be  too  cruel.  This  is 
Ludlow's  Ride!" 


XXXII 
THE  GREAT  RAID 

IT  was  the  first  time  they  had  acted  all  together  under 
their  own  General,  and  hope  beat  high  among  the 
Ironsides  that  night.  Nearly  two  thousand  sabres 
were  to  ride  forth  on  the  morrow.  In  spite  of  Crom- 
well's words,  so  often  quoted  against  him,  the  Ironsides 
force  was  for  the  most  part  officered  by  gentlemen. 

"  I  had  rather,"  said  Oliver,  "  have  a  plain  russet- 
coated  captain  that  knows  what  he  is  fighting  for,  and 
loves  what  he  knows,  than  that  which  you  call  a  gentle- 
man and  is  nothing  more.  But  I  love  a  gentleman  that 
is  a  gentleman  indeed." 

And  in  his  Ironside  regiments  he  honoured  them  so 
well  that  of  thirty-seven  officers  who  rode  out  with  him 
there  were  only  seven  who  were  not  "  gentlemen  born." 
But  of  these  seven  were  Pride,  the  drayman,  and  Hewson, 
the  Hog  Lane  cobbler.  Even  Zered  Tuby's  father  owned 
Gedney  Grange  and  might  have  borne  arms  on  his 
shield. 

Quietly  and  easily  the  raiders  filed  out,  and  disappeared 
into  the  west  without  leaving  a  clue  to  their  destination. 
"  For  the  defence  of  London,"  some  thought.  "  To  put 
down  a  new  raid  of  Rupert's  men,"  said  others.  But  none 
thought  that,  for  the  first  time  in  the  war,  a  great  strik- 
ing force  was  manoeuvring  by  the  will  of  a  single  man. 
No  Eastern  Association,  timid  like  all  Committees.  No 
wise  civilians  at  Westminster  to  turn  Cromwell's  path  by 
a  hairbreadth  once  he  had  left  Ely  town  behind ! 

By  Banbury  and  Edgehill  he  rode  straight  for  Oxford. 
But  he  had  with  him  no  battering  guns,  no  siege  train, 

281 


28£  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

nothing  but  what  each  horseman  could  carry,  and  that 
was  ammunition  for  the  most  part. 

The  men  were  in  high  spirits.  No  man  except  the 
generals  and  the  four  colonels  knew  whither  they  were 
being  led.  But  then,  what  did  that  matter?  One  glance 
at  that  tall  figure  riding  ahead  to  scan  the  horizon,  that 
Ironside  of  the  Ironsides,  gave  them  confidence. 

"  Ah,  he  knew — he  knew !  "  What  mattered  it  about 
any  other?  They  followed  his  star  and  were  content. 
Thus  confident  the  Ironsides  were  in  the  best  disposition 
for  accomplishing  great  things. 

From  Edgehill  the  array  turned  southward,  now  in 
Royal  territory,  but  keeping  well  west  of  Oxford  and  its 
defences.  They  had  their  first  experience  of  the  work 
they  had  come  out  to  do  when  they  crossed  the  Hereford 
road.  Here  they  found  Rupert's  squadrons  pouring 
northward,  escorting  many  waggons  of  provisions. 

To  Hal  they  became  apparent  as  a  black  trail  of  ants 
toiling  up  a  wide  valley  through  which  in  coils  and 
wimples  a  little  streamlet  shines  silver  among  loose  water- 
side foliage.  Cromwell  waved  his  hand.  The  various 
commands  spread  out  to  right  and  left.  Up  went  the 
General's  sword,  a  line  of  steel  glittering  in  the  full  sun- 
shine. Whether  by  accident  or  by  intention  Hal  found 
himself  in  front  of  the  main  body  of  the  escort.  Hog 
Lane  was  in  the  centre  behind  him  and  the  Cambridgers, 
split  into  two,  extended  on  either  side. 

"Charge!" 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  given  the  order  to  a  regi- 
ment. 

Generally,  indeed,  Hog  Lane  charged  without  needing 
to  be  told.  Just  how  the  new  command  came  down  the 
slope  has  not  been  put  on  record.  "  Raggedly  enough !  " 
reports  Ireton,  who  seems  to  have  had  a  hasty  glimpse 
of  them  in  the  heat  of  his  own  engagement.  But  it  was 
one  thing  to  lead  the  first  regiment  of  Cromwell's  horse 
into  action,  all  veterans  of  fifty  fights,  and  to  conduct 


THE  GREAT  RAID  283 

five  hundred  men  and  horses  through  their  first  action. 
But  the  spirit  of  united  action  was  upon  them.  They 
drew  closer,  each  foot  feehng  for  his  neighbour's  stirrup. 
Hal  saw  beyond  the  blue-and-white  plumes  of  Rupert's 
men  a  glimmer  of  rusty  red — prisoners  from  the  Parlia- 
mentary defeats  in  the  South  being  taken  to  some  strong- 
hold on  the  Welsh  border. 

The  shock  of  the  onset  came  with  shattering  sudden- 
ness. Hal  at  the  head  of  Hog  Lane  broke  through  in- 
stantly, but  the  new  men  on  the  flanks  were  in  some  con- 
fusion. The  risk  was  that  if  they  did  not  push  through, 
the  charge  would  degenerate  into  a  vast  number  of  hand- 
to-hand  encounters. 

So  Hal,  checking  the  pursuit,  divided  Hog  Lane  in 
two  so  that  Zered  with  one  part  and  he  with  the  other 
could  fall  on  the  rear  of  the  enemy. 

The  result  was  instantaneous.  The  Royal  horse  fled. 
The  Cambridgers  came  through  in  fairly  good  order,  and 
finding  that  all  was  safe,  gave  themselves  whole-heartedly 
to  the  pursuit.  Not  vainly  smote  the  Sword  of  the  Lord 
that  day,  till  Hal  stopped  them  after  two  or  three  miles. 
In  that  direction  lay  Rupert  and  his  whole  force.  Hal 
feared  the  counter  stroke,  and  was  content  with  the 
steadiness  of  his  men.  When  he  got  back  to  the  green 
valley,  all  that  could  not  be  transported  or  used  on  the 
spot  was  being  burned,  and  the  tall  pillars  of  smoke  rose 
into  the  still  air. 

Cromwell  had  cut  one  stick  of  the  fan.  But  he  had  no 
time  to  spare,  so  driving  the  captured  horses  before  him, 
he  went  forward,  his  eagle  eye  scouting  ahead.  Nothing 
escaped  him.  He  would  summon  a  strong  castle  to  sur- 
render, threatening  battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death  in 
case  of  refusal.  He  had,  indeed,  no  means  of  making 
good  such  a  threat,  nothing  heavier  than  a  musket  in  his 
whole  army,  yet  such  was  the  terror  which  his  name  al- 
ready inspired  that  as  often  as  not  the  place  was  rendered 
up.    For  such  a  shameful  surrender,  poor  young  Winde- 


284*  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

bank,  the  Secretary's  son,  a  young  man  personally  brave, 
was  shot  by  orders  of  the  King  in  the  castle  garden  after 
Cromwell  had  passed  on. 

It  was  a  wonderful  dash — all  done  in  haste  and  fury. 
He  rode  about  Prince  Maurice  who  was  bringing  up  the 
artillery  to  his  brother  at  Hereford,  and  swept  ofiE  every 
draught  horse  within  the  bounds  of  six  shires.  He 
swooped  upon  Islip,  and  routed  Northampton  with  a 
great  loss.  And  here  for  the  second  time  Hal's  new  regi- 
ment learned  steadiness,  for  it  was  their  lot  to  charge 
under  a  fire  from  the  enemy's  field-pieces.  The  fight 
befell  on  an  evening  of  drenching  rain,  and  the  Cam- 
bridgeshire men  looked  grimmer  than  usual  as  they  thrust 
down  the  points  of  their  "  pots  "  over  their  eyebrows  so 
that  the  drops  might  not  spoil  their  sword-play. 

Thereafter  Hog  Lane  for  the  first  time  spoke  civilly  to 
the  newcomers,  and  intimated  that  in  a  hundred  years  or 
so  they  might  become  soldiers,  or  at  least  something 
vaguely  approaching  thereto. 

Hog  Lane  was  mostly  slim,  dark,  restless-eyed,  true 
storks  of  the  fens.  The  Cambridgers  on  the  other  hand 
were  tall,  stolid  men,  with  square  shoulders,  high-narrow 
foreheads,  prominent  cheek-bones.  They  were  strong 
Puritans — Presbyterians  or  Congregationalists — and  they 
cared  for  their  horses  as  if  they  had  been  children. 
Cromwell  passed  and  said  a  word  of  praise  and  encour- 
agement to  the  debutants.  He  crossed  Hog  Lane  with  a 
mere  nod,  which  was  the  greatest  compliment  of  all,  in 
that  it  said,  "  No  need  to  waste  words  on  you.  We  are 
acquainted,  you  and  I !  " 

And  Hog  Lane  felt  the  honour  thus  done  them  as  it 
were  in  secret,  and  thrilled  to  their  hearts'  deepest  deeps. 
Little  rest  for  man  or  beast  during  the  great  ride  round 
Oxford — a  few  hours  to  rest  and  feed  the  horses,  then 
Allister's  bugle-call  (for  in  those  days  the  "music"  of 
the  Slepe  Troop  was  Cromwell's  shadow). 

"  Ta — ra — ta — ra — ra — ra!" 


THE  GREAT  RAID  285 

And  instantly  the  remains  of  the  pasty  were  wrapped 
in  paper  and  thrust  into  saddle-bags,  long  boots  were 
pulled  up,  sword-belts  tightened,  pistols  and  flints  clicked, 
charges  drawn,  reloaded,  and  reprimed.  Out  in  the  chill 
air  damp  from  the  woods  of  the  new  spring,  a  fine 
drizzling  rain  was  falling  and  the  men  sat  lower  on  their 
horses,  their  helmets  shining  with  moisture.  Here  they 
must  go  warily  and  by  night.  A  guide  had  been  obtained, 
a  gold  piece  given  him  to  purchase  good  behaviour,  and 
Ireton's  pistol  cocked  behind  his  ear  in  case  of  treachery. 
So  led  and  protected  the  party  set  forward.  Often  the 
road  was  so  abominable  that  they  took  to  the  higher 
woods. 

Once  or  twice  they  heard  the  crackling  of  branches 
among  the  brushwood  to  the  left,  the  shouting  of  a  gay 
chorus.  The  neigh  of  a  horse  would  betray  their  pres- 
ence, but  the  Prince's  patrol  party  sent  out  to  search  for 
them  went  merrily  by,  careless  of  being  heard,  noisy  and 
reckless  as  a  party  of  boys  nutting  among  the  hazels  in 
late  October.  Crack !  A  musket  went  off  and  for  a  mo- 
ment there  is  quite  audible  stir  among  the  silent  ranks  on 
the  hillside.  Had  the  jabberers  stumbled  upon  a  troop 
of  Ironsides  ?  No,  some  light-hearted  cavalier,  filled  with 
good  liquor,  had  fired  his  piece  in  the  air. 

"  Fool !  Dolt !  Calf's  head !  "  growled  Hal  between 
his  teeth ;  "  ah,  if  I  had  such  a  man  in  my  regiment !  " 

But  Hog  Lane  and  Cambridgeshire  Puritan  were  alike 
incapable  of  any  such  folly. 

So  they  passed  on,  keeping  within  view  of  Rupert's 
camp  fires  on  the  slopes  of  the  Hereford  hills.  Once 
they  approached  so  near  that  Hal  could  see  the  sentry 
set  his  musket  against  a  tree  and  sit  down  to  warm  his 
heels  at  the  fire.  Above  was  another  fire,  six  guns 
strongly  guarded,  stranded  there  for  want  of  the  horses 
which  General  Cromwell  was  carefully  shepherding  be- 
fore him  in  his  great  circular  "  drive  "  through  the  heart 
of  the  King's  country. 


286  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

The  command  lived  well,  though  meals  were  a  little 
irregular — consisting  of  supper  principally,  with  what 
remained  over  for  a  hasty  breakfast  in  the  morning. 
Long-legged,  lean-ribbed  Berkshire  pigs  roamed  the 
woods.  Poultry  was  plentiful,  and  Cromwell  paid  fair 
prices  when  the  owner  could  be  found.  In  the  villages  no 
men  were  to  be  seen — all  swept  off  into  the  King's  array, 
or  gone  into  hiding.  But  the  women  came  out  in  their 
smocks  and  clean  white  caps  to  welcome  the  first  Par- 
liament men  they  had  ever  seen. 

At  Bampton  there  was  a  smart  fight  before  Sir  William 
Vaughan  could  be  dislodged,  but  Hal  and  his  men  who 
were  scouting  towards  Fardingdon,  only  came  in  for  the 
short  pursuit.  "  We  are  pressed  for  time.  I  am  in 
enemy's  country,  therefore  I  prefer  to  do  the  retreating 
myself !  "  was  Cromwell's  version  of  his  tactics. 

"  Come  down  and  fight,  Marius,  if  thou  be  a  great 
General,''  quoted  Hal  to  Ireton  who  loved  learning. 

"  Aye,  and  what  said  Marius,  I  forget  the  tag  ?  " 

Marius  answered  to  his  adversary.  "  Nay,  if  thou  be 
a  great  General,  force  me  to  come  down  and  fight !  " 

"  Good — good,"  approved  Ireton ;  "  college  lore  never 
yet  spoilt  sword-stroke.  Go  on  to  thy  Cambridgeshire, 
and  give  them  no  Plutarch,  but  the  solid  Scripture.  '  The 
horseman  lifteth  up  the  bright  sword,  and  there  is  a 
multitude  of  slain.  .  .  .  They  stumble  over  their  corpses.' 
Surely  old  Nahum  the  prophet  had  our  General  in  his 
eye.  Come,  let  us  see  if  you  are  as  ready  with  Holy  Writ 
as  with  your  Plutarch." 

"  Upon  the  bridles  of  his  horses  there  shall  be  writ- 
ten  " 

"  Holiness  unto  the  Lord,"  quoth  Hal  promptly. 

"  Excellent  young  man !  "  said  Ireton,  with  something 
as  approaching  cordiality  as  he  ever  showed.  "  We  shall 
make  it  the  watchword  for  the  night." 

They  were  turning  full  circle  now,  and  the  broad 
swathe  of  conquered  and  desolated  territory  began  to 


THE  GREAT  RAID  287 

dose  round  Oxford.  Tewkesbury,  Gloucester,  and  Ciren- 
cester, Crickdale,  and  Malmesbury.  These  were  now 
solid  for  the  Parliament — at  least  so  long  as  Oliver's  arm 
rested  upon  them,  and  as  the  preachers  reminded  them 
"  the  snorting  of  his  horses  was  heard  unto  Dan." 

"  All  very  well,  Mr.  Mayor,"  quoth  Cromwell,  who 
harboured  no  illusions,  "  but  you  will  bring  the  same 
address  to  Rupert  when  he  comes,  and  just  so  your 
burgesses  will  wave  flags  and  your  commons  shout.  We 
are  deliverers  and  so  will  they  be.  But  take  good  heed, 
friend,  it  shall  not  always  be  so,  and  you  and  your 
facing-both-ways  gentry  will  learn  that  '  Whosoever  is 
not  for  us  is  against  us.'  So  a  good  morning  to  you, 
Mr.  Mayor,  and  better  consistency  of  behaviour  when 
next  we  meet." 

And  so  terrible  was  the  look  in  Cromwell's  eye  that  the 
Mayor  betook  himself  to  bed,  resigned  his  chain  of  office, 
and  never  again  took  part  in  public  business  either  of 
town  or  county. 

Two  strange  incidents  marked  for  Colonel  Hal  Ludlow 
the  close  of  the  Great  Raid.  News  had  been  received  that 
from  the  west  Oxford  city  lay  wholly  exposed.  Where- 
upon Hal  had  been  at  once  consulted,  and  gave  his 
opinion  that  a  strong  party  of  horsemen  might  very  well 
ride  to  the  walls  of  Oxford,  rolling  up  and  destroying 
everything  in  its  way. 

"  But,"  he  added  with  the  curt  decision  which  came 
natural  to  him,  "  even  you  yourself  could  do  no  more  than 
flout  them.  You  could  not  carry  off  the  cannon  you  might 
take.  You  do  not  want  prisoners,  and  cavalry  are  of 
no  use  against  solid  and  well-guarded  walls." 

"  But  are  they  ?  "  demanded  Cromwell. 

"  My  eyes  have  seen,"  Hal  answered ;  "  but  for  all 
that  gladly  will  I  go  and  make  sure." 

"  I  am  no  unfriend  to  plainness  of  speech,"  said 
Cromwell ;  "  I  can  do  something  in  that  way  myself 
upon  occasion,  as  you  know.    Go  then.  Colonel,  take  your 


288  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

command  and  ride  to  Oxford,  picking  up  what  you  can 
on  the  way." 

Hal  bowed  his  head,  and  Ireton  frowned  a  Httle  because 
he  thought  that,  as  the  senior,  the  post  of  danger  should 
have  been  his.  But  Cromwell,  who  as  good  leader  of 
men  divined  all  things,  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Tut,  man,  tut,"  he  said  in  his  ear.  "  Let  the  young  man 
knock  his  head  against  a  wall.  It  will  do  him  good.  But 
you — I  have  need  of  you  at  my  elbow !  " 

And  Ireton,  swift  to  anger  but  easily  pacified,  used  the 
old  and  well-beloved  title.  "  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  I  am 
a  fool !  " 

"  'Tis  no  fool  who  knows  that  of  himself,"  said  Crom- 
well. 

Meanwhile  Hal  rode  on  towards  the  loyal  city,  whose 
very  bells  proclaimed,  week-day  and  Sunday,  the  divine 
right. 

"  God  bless  King  Charles — 
Cod  bless — God  bless  King  Charles, 

Cast  down  all  knaves 

Into  deep  graves, 
GOD    BLESS    KING    CHARLES!" 

And  the  last  prayer  was  sent  throbbing  into  space  with 
such  a  clash  and  clangour  of  brazen  sound  that  the 
Cambridgers,  hearing  it  afar  ofl,  looked  at  each  other 
and  marvelled. 

A  few  miles  from  Oxford,  Hal's  "  forlorn  "  came  quite 
unexpectedly  upon  a  snug  little  camp  surrounding  a  park 
of  siege  artillery.  The  smoke  of  the  evening  fires  was 
going  peacefully  up  and  the  men  lounged  smoking  and 
gossiping  about,  some  with  their  backs  against  trees, 
and  other  merely  idle  and  waiting  for  supper. 

Into  this  peaceful  and  almost  familiar  scene  the  Iron- 
sides charged  full  tilt.  Hal  had  ordered  them  not  to  be 
too  intent  on  killing.  It  would  be  enough  to  make  the 
rogues  run,  and  then  destroy  their  pieces  and  ammuni- 
tion.   And,  indeed,  the  flat  of  the  sword  vi^as  more  used 


THE  GREAT  RAID  289 

that  evening  than  the  edge.  Few  of  the  cavaliers  had  so 
much  as  a  sword  or  pistol  about  them  when  suddenly 
out  of  the  gloaming  mists  they  saw  endless  files  of  steel- 
clad  men  charging  upon  them  with  the  famous  Puritan 
shout,  "  The  Sword  of  the  Lord."  Now  this  was  enough 
to  daunt  mounted  men  in  array  of  battle.  But  the  poor 
artillerymen  had  scarcely  time  to  snatch  a  horse's  bridle 
and  ride  off  before  the  enemy  was  among  them.  Lucky 
it  was  that  not  a  pistol  was  fired,  for  had  it  been  other- 
wise, they  might  have  been  ridden  down  like  sheep. 

Hal  sent  Zered  to  head  them  off  the  Oxford  road,  so 
that  they  might  not  carry  the  news  of  his  coming  to  the 
city. 

A  pavilion  in  the  centre  of  the  encampment  remained 
closed  and  silent  in  the  midst  of  all  this  hubbub.  Could 
it  be  that  Maurice  the  Prince  was  on  his  way  with  the 
guns  for  Rupert  at  Hereford?  With  a  heart  that  beat 
at  the  thought  of  such  a  captive,  Hal  lifted  the  fold  of  the 
tent  door.  A  woman  in  a  pale  blue  robe  falling  in  folds 
to  her  feet,  and  belted  with  a  golden  girdle  fine  as  spun 
silk,  stood  before  him. 

The  Lady  Lulu,  paralysed  with  terror  at  the  stern 
shouting  of  the  Ironsides,  stood  a  moment  transfixed  with 
astonishment  before  what  her  eyes  revealed  to  her — an 
array  of  glittering  swords,  tossing  horses'  heads,  jingling 
bridles,  and  all  the  panoply  of  war.  Such  men  as  she  had 
never  seen  were  before  her,  every  detail  of  their  outfit 
as  austerely  practical  as  their  visages. 

She  stood  a  moment  astonished  and  as  it  seemed  be- 
wildered. Then  feeling  instinctively  where  there  was 
hope  for  her,  she  threw  herself  forward  towards  Hal  and 
clung  desperately  to  his  stirrup. 

"  Save  me — save  me,"  she  gasped,  turning  upward 
the  wild  eyes  and  pale  lips  of  the  most  beautiful  face  in 
the  world. 

"God  in  his  heaven,  Melchior!"  she  cried  and  fell 
fainting  among  the  horses'  feet.     Hereward  trod  deli- 


290  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

cately  and  did  her  no  harm,  leaping  aside  daintily  as  a 
doe  leaps  a  fence  on  her  way  to  the  drinking  pool. 

But  Hal  Ludlow — Colonel  Henry  Ludlow — was  in  an 
evil  pass,  for  there  sat  watching  him  five  hundred  good 
Puritans,  Calvinists,  and  Anabaptists — with  extremely 
acute  views  as  to  the  total  depravity  of  man,  and  of  that 
original  sin  to  which  he  had  doubtless  added  much  actual 
transgression. 

But  our  hero's  heart  had  that  of  stubbornness  in  it 
which  fitted  him  to  be  a  Colonel  of  Ironsides  at  twenty- 
one,  and  also  perhaps  to  rule  in  the  hearts  of  women — to 
wit,  stubbornness  and  also  that  touch  of  brutality  which 
has  been  noticed  before. 

Not  a  line  of  his  face  moved  as  he  sat  and  regarded  the 
Lady  Lulu. 

"  Here,  Lieutenant  Zered,  and  you  Sergeant  Royds, 
take  the  lady  to  her  tent,  and  see  that  she  is  sent  back 
to  Oxford  under  a  guard  after  our  demonstration  of 
to-morrow  morning." 

But  in  spite  of  all  his  steadiness  and  self-command, 
there  were  some  among  his  followers  who  communed 
thoughtfully  the  one  with  the  other. 

"  '  Melchior — Melchior,'  she  called  him  Melchior.  I 
wonder  why — perhaps  because  he  came  out  of  the  East — 
*  bringing  presents ! '  "  chuckled  another.  "  He  knows 
more  about  women  than  their  maiden  names,  doth  our 
Colonel — and  i'faith,  come  to  think  on't,  was  he  not 
'  broke  '  from  the  Slepe  Troop  for  '  petticoating  '?  " 

Such  a  thing  it  is  to  have  a  reputation  ready  made, 
but  curiously  enough  the  sternest  Puritan  of  them  all 
thought  no  worse  of  him. 

"  Did  you  see  how  he  met  it  ?  "  they  summed  up  the 
case  for  the  defence.  "  He  is  not  one  ever  to  shame  us. 
He  puts  Hog  Lane  and  the  Good  Cause  before  any  petti- 
coat that  ever  rustled."  "  Aye,  he  does  that — and  the 
more's  the  wonder,  he  so  young  and  all." 

And  in  the  meantime  with  something  very  like  oaths — 


THE  GREAT  RAID  291 

an  hard  thing  to  say  of  so  good  a  man — Zered  Tuby 
stood  watching  the  recovery  of  the  Lady  Lulu.  Zered 
was  no  more  sentimental  than  a  piece  of  wood,  and  the 
Lady  Lulu  had  no  chance  of  cozening  him  to  let  her  see 
his  Colonel.  But  at  present  he  was  employed  in  abusing 
that  Colonel,  who  had  left  him  planted  there — "  like  a 
calf  in  Horeb,  like  a  tent-keeper  in  Baal-Peor." 

What  cryptic  meaning  was  hidden  in  the  last  phrase 
is  known  only  to  Zered,  but  he  was  manifestly  well 
pleased  with  it,  for  he  repeated  it  in  various  forms. 

"  I  am  made  a  door-keeper  in  the  tents  of  Baal-Peor. 
What  have  I  to  do  with  Midianitish  women  with  jewels 
on  their  ears  and  rings  on  their  fingers?  And  all  the 
while  my  master  Zimri,  that  son  of  Salu,  is  riding  out  on 
his  *  forlorn '  never  thinking  of  me,  his  lieutenant,  an  old 
leather-headed  beast  who  would  sell  his  soul  to  give  him 
pleasure !  " 

Then  at  last  Zered  could  stand  it  no  longer.  His  horse 
was  stamping  without.  Doe  Royds  was  a  good  man.  He 
would  convey  her  safely  even  as  the  Colonel  commanded. 
After  all,  why  need  he  stay? 

So,  having  laid  strict  injunctions  upon  Doe  Royds, 
that  trusted  soldier,  he  mounted  and  rode  off  after  the 
regiment,  having  disobeyed  orders  for  the  first  and  last 
time  in  his  life. 


XXXIII  ' 

THE  HEWING  OF  AGAG 

ZERED  arrived  in  time  to  hear  Allister  of  the  Slepe 
Troop,  lent  by  the  Commander-in-Chief  for  the 
occasion,  summon  the  Virgin  city  to  surrender  "  in 
the  name  of  General  Cromwell,  of  the  Lords  and  Com- 
mons of  England." 

It  was  done  in  mockery,  and  was  doubtless  a  hard 
thing  to  bear  for  so  loyal  and  haughty  a  city. 

"  They  flout  us  to  our  beards,"  cried  a  secretary  of 
State.  "  Well  have  they  chosen  their  time,  when  the 
King's  army  is  already  in  Devon,  and  Rupert  sitting  idle 
and  horseless  at  Hereford." 

So  having  done  his  part,  Hal  brought  back  his  regiment 
to  the  artillery  camp,  destroyed  the  guns  and  finding  the 
pavilion  deserted,  rode  towards  his  rendezvous  with 
Cromwell  without  giving  a  thought  to  the  Lady  Lulu, 
who  had  indeed  put  his  repute  in  some  jeopardy,  but  to 
whom  after  all  both  he  and  the  Good  Cause  owed  much. 
He  had  put  her  into  safety  where  she  would  live  her  own 
life.  The  Jews  had  no  dealings  with  the  Samaritans — or, 
if  they  had,  be  sure  that  the  Samaritans,  a  simple  pastoral 
people,  had  the  worst  of  it. 

Hal  had  been  too  busy  looking  out  for  rushes  and  am- 
buscades before  the  walls  of  Oxford  to  give  any  attention 
to  the  Hog  Laners,  of  whose  steadiness  he  was  sure  in  all 
circumstances.  Still  less  did  he  suspect  the  presence 
among  them  of  Lieutenant  Zered  who  discreetly  com- 
manded from  the  rear. 

So  when  he  thought  at  all  of  the  Lady  Lulu,  it  was  of 
her  as  safe  under  the  protection  of  Zered  and  that  brave 

292 


THE  HEWING  OF  AGAG 

and  trusted  soldier  Sergeant-Major  Doe  Royds  of  the 
Hog  Lane  Troop. 

It  chanced  that  they  were  marching  towards  their 
rendezvous,  scattering  a  Httle  and  beating  the  woods  as 
they  went,  when  far  off  and  indistinct  at  the  end  of  the 
green  vista  Hal  saw  a  figure  flit — flit  across  and  disap- 
pear in  the  thick  brushwood.  It  was  but  an  instant,  but 
Hal  could  have  sworn  that  he  recognised  the  red  coat 
and  white  badges  of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop.  And  what 
was  a  Hog  Laner  doing  there  without  his  horse?  Why 
again  did  he  skulk  and  disappear  at  sight  of  his  com- 
rades? For  whoever  he  might  be,  he  must  know  that 
orderly  and  silent  advance. 

Hal  instantly  touched  Hereward  with  the  spur,  not  to 
hurt  but  as  a  simple  indication  that  he  was  to  do  his  best. 
Hereward  threw  up  his  head  with  something  like  in- 
dignation. Charge?  How  could  anyone  charge  among 
trees,  and  if  he,  Hereward,  did  charge  into  such  a  den  of 
small  brittle  sticks,  snapping  and  spitting  like  cats  and 
scratching  his  legs,  which  of  these  lumbering  Cam- 
bridgeshire brutes  could  follow  him?  Nevertheless,  be- 
cause he  knew  better  than  to  dispute  a  command,  Here- 
ward launched  himself  down  the  long  clearing,  and  Hog 
Lane,  with  Zered  now  shamelessly  in  front  (and  willing 
to  lie  as  to  how  he  got  there),  followed  as  best  it  might. 

It  was  a  long  and  difficult  chase.  A  man  can  conceal 
himself  in  so  many  different  places  in  a  wood,  or  lie 
hidden  among  leaves  and  roots  under  lee  of  an  upturned 
pine  which  has  brought  away  the  earth  with  it. 

Such  a  game  of  hide-and-seek  was  never  dreamed  of. 
The  troop  might  have  been  cut  off  to  a  man  had  an 
ambush  been  in  readiness.  They  were  scattered,  seeking 
they  knew  not  what  or  whom — though  the  veterans 
thought  that  it  must  be  a  spy.  But  on  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  mounted  on  his  own  horse,  alert  and  soldier-like, 
they  came  upon  Doe  Royds  riding  tranquilly  towards 
them. 


294*  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

He  saluted  promptly  at  sight  of  Hal  and  the  disor- 
dered bushwhackers  behind  him. 

"I  have  come  back  to  join  my  troop,"  he  said, 

"And  where  is  Captain  Tuby?"  Hal  demanded,  his 
soul  angered  at  the  strange  turn  of  affairs. 

"  The  Captain  rode  on  ahead.  He  was  anxious  to  see 
Oxford !  " 

"  Anxious  to  see  Oxford,"  cried  Hal.  "  Why,  if  he 
has  arrived,  did  he  not  report  to  me — and  where  is  the 
lady?" 

"  She  is  in  safety  among  her  friends.  She  sent  her 
compliments  and  thanks  for  the  safe-conduct." 

And  immediately  at  these  words  a  suspicion  of  Doe 
Royds  began  to  form  itself  in  the  breast  of  Colonel 
Ludlow. 

"  Get  out  of  this  wood,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Close  up 
about  that  man.  Take  his  weapons  from  him,  Royds, 
you  are  under  arrest.  Take  those  pistols.  Now  we  shall 
look  into  the  matter." 

With  some  difficulty  the  troops  drew  clear  of  the  patch 
of  woodland,  and  there  on  the  open  space  of  green, 
smooth  and  short,  turfed  like  a  parade-ground,  Hal  got 
his  dishevelled  regiment  into  order.  He  was  only  in 
time,  for  General  Cromwell  and  his  staff  rode  up  just  as 
the  captains  were  gathering  about  to  hear  Doe  Royds' 
explanation. 

"  What  of  Oxford  ?  "  cried  the  General,  his  brown  face 
working  with  eagerness. 

"  We  captured  and  destroyed  twelve  of  Rupert's  guns, 
because  we  could  not  bring  them  off.  Then  we  rode 
straight  up  to  the  walls  and  by  trumpet  sound  sum- 
moned the  city  to  surrender  in  the  name  of  General 
Cromwell,  of  the  Houses  and  the  Lord." 

"  Good,"  said  Cromwell,  "  and  what  answered  the 
garrison  ?  " 

"  Only  with  a  straggling  fire  of  muskets  which  did  no 
harm,  and  a  few  round  shots  which  passed  over  our 


THE  HEWING  OF  AGAG  296 

heads.  So  thinking  I  had  done  all  you  would  wish,  I 
brought  off  my  men." 

Cromwell  nodded  and  glanced  at  Doe  Royds.  "  Whom 
have  we  here?  A  senior  sergeant  of  Hog  Lane  without 
arms  ?  " 

"  He  is  under  arrest — I  have  summoned  the  officers  to 
examine  his  story,"  said  Hal,  who  was  unwilling  to  in- 
culpate Zered  or  to  mention  the  name  of  the  Lady 
Lulu. 

"  Ah,  a  drumhead  court-martial,"  said  Cromwell.  "  I 
conduct  these  things  myself.  Ah,  sirrah,  what  would  you 
there?  Ireton,  get  down  and  search  among  the  grass. 
I  saw  something  drop  from  his  left  hand !  " 

Doe  Royds  turned  instantly,  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
was  plunging  into  the  wood,  but  Hereward  was  in- 
finitely faster  and  quicker.  Hal's  sword  was  at  the  man's 
throat,  and  Zered  coming  behind  took  his  horse's  head 
and  led  him  back  into  the  circle  of  waiting  officers.  After 
that  one  dash  for  liberty.  Doe  Royds  resigned  himself 
doggedly  to  fate,  and  from  that  moment  no  shade 
of  hope  or  fear  crossed  the  dense  sullenness  of  his 
countenance.  His  small  deep-set  eyes  glittered  as 
he  followed  the  movements  of  the  seekers  among  the 
grass. 

At  last,  after  an  interminable  pause,  Ireton  uttered  a 
shout  of  horror,  and  leaping  to  his  feet  held  something 
which  glittered  and  was  white — something  which  made 
the  cheeks  of  even  those  seasoned  warriors  turn  pale  and 
the  breath  wheeze  in  their  throats  as  they  gasped  for 
breath. 

It  was  a  woman's  forefinger,  delicately  formed,  and 
very  white.  It  had  been  cut  off  near  the  knuckle-joint, 
and  carried  upon  it  a  large  ruby  ring,  heart-shaped,  and 
set  about  with  diamonds. 

Nothing  was  heard  for  a  minute  while  Cromwell 
examined  the  relic,  with  a  face  so  terrible  that  innocent 


296  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

men  shrank  from  it.  Then  he  took  a  folded  white  ker- 
chief from  the  breast  of  his  tunic,  wrapped  the  poor 
fragment  with  reverence  within,  and  carefully  placed  it 
in  his  holster. 

"  Where  shall  we  find  the  woman  to  whom  this  be- 
longed? Speak,  traitor — you  have  worn  the  uniform. 
You  have  had  honour  among  comrades.  You  have  not 
feared  death.    Speak  now.    Where  is  the  woman  ?  " 

But  Doe  Royds  looked  him  through  with  eyes  of  red 
coal  and  kept  silence. 

"  Search  him !  "  commanded  the  General. 

From  his  pockets  and  the  folds  of  his  garments  where 
they  had  been  roughly  sewn  they  took  a  double  handful 
of  jewels,  rings  mostly,  but  a  sprinkling  also  of  brooches, 
chains,  and  bracelets.  A  rich  tiara  of  brilliants  had  been 
rudely  broken  as  with  a  sword-hilt  and  the  fragments 
heaped  into  the  bottom  of  his  holster  where  they  were 
covered  with  a  torn  lace  veil. 

And  then  came  Zered — Zered  who  had  never  been  in 
fault  before,  confessing  bitterly,  how  he  had  longed  to 
see  Oxford  and  to  be  with  Hog  Lane  at  the  flouting  of 
the  enemy's  proudest  citadel. 

He  had  left  his  Sergeant-Major  to  carry  out  the  orders 
which  had  been  entrusted  to  him  and 

"  We  will  attend  to  your  case  immediately,  Captain 
Tuby,"  broke  in  Cromwell.  "  Lead  on — let  us  find — 
what  there  is  to  find." 

So  Zered  led  the  way  towards  the  pavilion  among  the 
burst  and  cracked  cannon,  and  among  all  that  cavalcade 
which  followed  him  there  was  no  man  whose  face  was  so 
serene  and  impassable  as  the  Sergeant-Major  of  Hog 
Lane,  though  he  rode  with  his  feet  tied  under  his  horse's 
belly  and  without  any  hope  in  his  heart.  For  he  alone 
knew  what  they  were  going  to  find. 

And  what  they  did  find  was  the  Lady  Lulu  with  two 
deep  stabs  in  her  breast,  lying  pale  as  a  lily  amid  the 
stained  disorder  of  her  white  robe. 


THE  HEWING  OF  AGAG  297 

"  He  brought  her  back — she  was  not  there  when  we 
came  from  Oxford,"  said  Zered. 

The  council  of  the  Captains  was  soon  over.  The  pun- 
ishment was  in  the  General's  hands,  but  all  knew  that  it 
would  be  exemplary  and  worthy  of  that  stern  and  terrible 
imagination.  Cromwell  ordered  two  graves  to  be  dug 
with  the  entrenching  tools  found  in  the  camp,  one  in  the 
open  square  facing  the  pavilion,  and  the  other  far  away 
under  the  first  green  fir  boughs  at  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
where  a  wealth  of  primroses  delicately  pale  looks  down 
on  a  little  babbling  brook. 

The  Lady  Lulu  had  brave  and  honourable  burial. 
General  Cromwell  did  nothing  by  halves.  So  the  body 
was  brought  out,  swathed  in  her  own  coverlet  of  rose  silk 
and  creamy  lace.  The  folded  kerchief  which  had  come 
from  Dame  Cromwell's  housewifery  store  was  laid  within 
the  folds.  The  Captains  carried  her  on  their  shoulders, 
Zered  taking  the  right,  and  by  this  he  knew  that  he  was 
forgiven.  They  laid  her  gently  down  among  the  red 
earth,  the  men  leaning  on  their  spades  and  pickaxes  as  if 
they  had  been  on  duty  at  a  dangerous  outpost.  Every 
man's  face  wore  a  stern  and  waiting  aspect.  Hog  Lane 
had  been  disgraced,  but  they  must  clear  the  troop  of  that 
stain.  The  regiment  took  station  about  the  grave,  while 
Cromwell,  bareheaded  and  helmet  in  hand,  said  a  brief 
prayer  of  pity  and  leave-taking. 

He  stood  back,  and  the  three  volleys  of  the  firing  party 
crashed  out.  Then  before  the  smoke  had  cleared  away 
the  grave  was  filled  up  and  the  green  sods  replaced. 
Allister's  trumpet  rang  out  in  the  funeral  call.  This 
(the  men  averred)  was  what  it  said: — 

The  End  of  All 

Am  I  come. 
Wea  rily — wea  rily, 

Glad  to  be  done, 
I  lay  me  down 

Cheerily — cheerily. 


298  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

But  to  none  in  the  regiment  did  the  burial-call  speak 
with  its  old  appeal.  All  sympathised  with  Hog  Lane, 
and  Hog  Lane  had  no  thoughts  to  waste  on  sentiment. 
They  had  buried  the  dead  with  honour — now  they  must 
cleanse  their  dishonour. 

"  He  shall  be  tried  by  his  peers,"  said  the  General. 
"  God  forbid  that  we  should  condemn  any  man  un- 
heard." But  Doe  Royds,  though  threatened  with  death, 
confronted  with  evidence — the  dagger  with  his  name  en- 
graven on  the  blade,  found  cast  away  among  the  rubbish 
of  the  deserted  camp,  the  great  double  handful  of  jewels 
in  his  pocket,  and  the  dreadful  crowning  horror  of  the 
severed  finger  dropped  among  the  grass  and  discovered 
by  the  red  shining  of  the  ruby  heart — all  were  in  vain. 
Doe  Royds  stood  silent,  impervious  to  pity,  untouched 
by  threats,  unblanched  by  fear. 

And  then  came  the  sentence. 

"  Doe  Royds  hath  slain  and  defiled  a  woman  com- 
mitted to  his  charge.  He  hath  shamed  the  good  name 
of  his  troop  and  regiment.  Let  him  be  hewn  in  pieces 
before  the  Lord." 

The  twilight  was  closing  in  and  the  mists  rising  in  the 
long  forest  aisles  before  the  preparations  were  complete. 
They  were  rude,  but  marked  by  an  austere  grandeur.  A 
post  made  out  of  a  felled  tree  was  driven  deep  into  the 
ground  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  and  upon  this  Doe 
Royds  was  seated,  his  legs  closely  tied  about  the  wood 
and  his  arms  pinioned  behind  his  back.  The  badges  of 
Ms  rank  were  torn  from  his  sleeve  and  destroyed.  And 
then  in  an  impressive  silence,  the  regiment  formed  three 
sides  of  a  hollow  square  facing  towards  the  post.  All  the 
western  sky  was  red  like  blood,  and  facing  it  the  Ser- 
geant-Major  of  the  Hog  Lane  Troop  sat  immovable  on 
his  post,  looking  in  the  direction  from  which  his  doom  was 
to  arrive.  Helmet  on  head,  corseleted  and  breastplated, 
he  waited,  an  erect  and  soldierly  figure.  His  face  showed 
no  emotion,  and  he  neither  vaunted  nor  wavered.     He 


THE  HEWING  OF  AGAG  299 

merely  sat  silent  and  looked  death  in  the  face — so  great 
a  thing  is  personal  courage. 

From  the  other  side  of  the  deep  grave  Cromwell,  sur- 
rounded by  his  officers,  watched  the  execution  of  the 
traitor  and  slaughterer  of  women — the  first  in  the  new 
army. 

"  Hog  Lane,"  he  commanded,  "  clear  your  name !  " 

The  troopers  were  gathered  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
enclosure  like  men  about  to  ride  a  tournay.  At  the  word 
of  command  they  put  their  horses  in  motion,  riding  one 
by  one  towards  the  doomed  man,  and  as  they  passed  at 
full  speed  each  sword  struck  a  full  stroke.  A  long  hollow 
moaning  sound  broke  from  the  Cambridgers,  massed 
black  against  the  red  sunset.  But  Hog  Lane  did  not 
pause  nor  hesitate.  As  each  horseman  went  whirling  by^, 
striking  and  disengaging  his  arm,  another  was  hard  on 
his  horse's  heels.  Nor  did  they  cease  till  all  that  had 
been  Doe  Royds  had  tumbled  piecemeal  into  the  grave, 
the  head  with  the  helm  still  firm  upon  it,  arms,  legs, 
trunk  all  piecemeal,  and  the  clean,  kindly  earth  pushed 
down  to  hide  the  horror. 

Only  the  haggled  and  blood-stained  post  remained  for 
a  memorial,  dripping  a  ghastly  viscous  dew  upon  the 
trampled  earth  and  speckled  grass. 

The  Cambridgers  filed  out,  silent  and  afraid,  their  skin 
mere  creeping  gooseflesh  upon  them,  and  wet  with  a 
clammy  sweat  as  chill  as  death. 

But  Hog  Lane,  though  stained  red  as  after  battle,  rode 
with  heads  up,  alert  and  determined  under  the  stars. 
Their  eyes  had  seen,  their  swords  tasted,  the  vengeance 
of  the  Lord  and  of  Oliver  Cromwell.  They  had  cleared 
their  honour,  and  in  the  silent  glade  where  they  had  left 
two  graves,  the  haggled  post  would  stand  as  their  memo- 
rial. Winter  rains  would  wash  it  clean,  the  grass  would 
grow  about  it,  but  the  scars  and  notches,  never  made  by 
axe,  would  remain  to  testify  how  Hog  Lane  had  wiped 
out  the  sin  of  Doe  Royds,  Sergeant-Major  of  their  array. 


XXXIV 

NASEBY  MORNING 

y^LL  yesterday  the   army   of   the   New   Model   had 
/A    poured  northward  through   Northamptonshire  to 
check  the  King's  advance  towards  Yorkshire  and 
Scotland,  where  Montrose  had  been  winning  great  vic- 
tories. 

"  Come  thou  thyself,"  he  had  triumphantly  written  to 
Charles,  "  lest  the  country  be  called  by  my  name." 

But  Cromwell  was  keen  and  anxious,  and  succeeded 
in  making  Fairfax  as  keen  as  himself.  Part  of  the  New 
Model  horse  and  all  of  the  foot  were  raw  troops  and  had 
never  seen  a  battle. 

"  Well  then,"  said  Cromwell,  "  the  sooner  they  see  one 
the  better.    We  will  brigade  them  with  the  veterans." 

Upon  Naseby  Broad  Moor  he  had  his  way.  He  forced 
a  battle  upon  the  King,  and  Rupert,  ever  willing  to 
fight,  was  opposed  to  Ireton  and  the  new  horse.  Through 
these  Rupert  broke,  head  down  like  a  bull  through  a 
thin  hedge;  Ireton  was  wounded,  but  nevertheless  he 
easily  rallied  the  better  regiments  of  his  horse  about  him. 
As  usual,  Rupert  had  spurred  on  and  was  soon  out  of  the 
fight,  drunken  with  apparent  success  and  furious  that 
the  baggage  train  should  escape  him.  So  Cromwell, 
without  undue  haste,  divided  his  Ironsides  into  two 
parts^-one  to  charge  the  enemy  and  drive  him  before 
them;  but  the  other,  which  he  led  himself,  he  kept  in 
hand  to  fall  upon  the  Royalist  centre.  To  this  belonged 
the  original  Ironsides,  the  Slepe  and  St.  Neot's  Troops, 
Dedham  and  Hog  Lane,  with  Colonel  Hal  and  his  Cam- 
bridgers. 

300 


NASEBY  MORNING  301 

When  they  saw  Rupert  crumple  up  Ireton's  regiments, 
plough  through  them,  and  disappear,  the  heart  was  in 
Hal's  throat.  But  Cromwell  sat  holding  his  reins  and 
glancing  this  way  and  that  as  was  his  wont. 

"  Charging  does  not  win  battles,"  he  said,  "  but 
knowing  when  to  stop." 

And,  indeed,  Cromwell  never  saw  a  gladder  sight  (save 
perhaps  one  day  at  Dunbar)  than  the  tails  of  Rupert's 
horses  disappearing  towards  the  baggage  waggons.  And 
then  he  set  himself  to  crush  in  the  King's  army  on  all 
sides  like  a  nut  in  the  nut-crackers. 

Some  Cromwellians  went  down  shouting,  "  Thou  hast 
given  me  the  necks  of  mine  enemies,"  but  the  old  regi- 
ment sang  their  favourite: 

"Be  thou  the  Governor!" 

So,  long  before  Rupert  had  checked  his  pursuit,  the  Royal 
foot  had  been  destroyed  or  taken,  full  five  thousand  of 
them,  the  centre  and  right  were  in  furious  rout,  and  the 
King  had  been  snatched  out  of  the  last  clash  of  arms 
where  he  was  found  wandering,  brave  as  ever  but  still 
irresolute. 

No  man  had  more  reason  to  be  proud  than  Cromwell 
as  he  gathered  in  the  spoils.  His  nominal  Commander- 
in-Chief,  brave,  loyal,  and  modest  like  all  the  Fairfaxes, 
had  served  under  him  like  a  common  soldier.  Ireton, 
of  all  his  officers  the  closest  to  his  heart,  had  allowed 
himself  to  be  sacrificed  that  Rupert  might  run  himself 
clear  off  the  field.  The  Ironsides  had  driven  the  York- 
shire horse  before  them  like  blown  dust  on  a  highway, 
while  the  precious  regiments  of  reserve — the  flower  of 
Puritan  chivalry— had  charged  and  halted,  wheeled  and 
re-charged  in  front,  in  flank,  and  in  rear  till  there  was 
never  an  army  in  England  fit  to  fight  a  pitched  battle 
under  the  Royal  colours. 

"  I  could  not,"  said  Cromwell,  "  riding  alone  about 
my  business,  but  smile  to  God  in  praises,  thinking  how, 


302  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

out  of  a  company  of  poor  ignorant  men,  and  out  of 
things  that  are  not,  He  had  brought  to  naught  things  that 
are — cast  down  the  mighty  from  their  seats  and  exahed 
them  of  low  degree !  "  In  one  day  Naseby  Hill  and  the 
crushing  of  the  King  upon  Broad  Moor  made  Cromwell 
the  first  man  in  England.  The  ride  round  Oxford  had 
cut  the  loyal  part  of  England  as  with  a  sharp  sword. 
Naseby  ended  the  great  battles  in  the  field,  army  ranked 
against  army.  There  were  many  good  fights  yet  to  be 
fought,  many  strongholds  held  by  brave  men  and  women 
to  be  reduced.  But  all  that  became  an  affair  of  time 
merely,  and  for  this  Cromwell  gave  God  the  glory. 

"  The  shadow  of  death  hath  been  turned  into  morning 
by  Him  who  made  Orion  and  the  seven  stars." 

Which  was  true,  but  the  man  who  had  made  the  Slepe 
Troop,  and  after  that  the  Ironside  Horse,  and  last  of  all 
the  New  Model  Army,  counted  for  something  too. 

And  instantly  like  the  passing  of  a  furious  tempest, 
the  thunder  of  war  ceased  and  the  sunshine  brightened 
all  men's  faces.  Specially  was  this  the  case  in  the  East- 
ern Counties.  They  had  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of 
the  day.  Theirs  were  the  men  who  had  won  the  victory. 
The  dead  were  their  sons  and  brothers.  Cromwell,  that 
Arm  of  the  Lord,  was  bone  of  their  bone,  flesh  of  their 
flesh. 

The  bells  of  Maldon  rang  out  bravely  that  bright 
Sunday  morning  when  the  news  of  Naseby  Fight  reached 
the  little  town.  The  burgesses  went  processioning  in 
their  best,  winding  up  with  morning  thanksgiving  in  the 
church. 

There  was  no  mistake  this  time.  The  enemy  was 
routed,  horse,  foot,  and  artillery,  and  would  never  make 
a  stand  in  England  again.  The  ministers  preached,  good 
Presbyterians  all,  sober  and  learned  men,  but  dwelling 
in  harmony  with  the  sectaries  and  speaking  respectfully 
of  every  man's  belief.  The  news  had  come  first  to  Dan- 
bury  Towers,  from  which  a  flying  messenger  had  been 


NASEBY  MORNING  303 

despatched  to  Maldon — direct  from  Dame  Cromwell  to 
her  friend  Mistress  Staines  of  the  West  House,  whose 
servant  Anne  was  even  now  hanging  out  flags  and  strips 
of  red  flannel  in  festoons  over  the  front  doors,  plain  to 
be  seen  of  all  men. 

At  the  Towers,  everything  was  in  a  joyous  confusion. 
Dame  Cromwell,  between  laughter  and  tears,  was  hastily 
packing  up  to  go  back  to  Ely.  My  Lord's  coach  was 
being  prepared  for  the  journey,  and  such  of  the  house- 
hold as  could  be  spared  were  to  ride  with  the  convoy. 
Lady  Molly  made  no  attempt  to  retain  her  guests.  She 
was  troubled  and  uneasy,  and  by  the  haste  and  temper 
which  she  manifested  among  the  stablemen  and  pos- 
tilions, she  seemed  rather  anxious  than  otherwise  to  get 
rid  of  her  guests. 

Indeed,  she  loved  Bess  and  Bridget  both,  and  especially 
(as  all  must)  she  loved  the  good  Dame  Elizabeth,  but  she 
had  that  upon  her  mind  which  made  her  restless  and  un- 
satisfied. She  longed  to  have  a  wide  and  empty  dwelling 
and  to  be  responsible  to  no  man  for  her  outgoings  and 
incomings. 

Dame  Cromwell  neither  claimed  nor  assumed  any 
authority  in  the  house.  But  she  was  so  genuinely  anxious 
and  grieved  if  Lady  Molly  were  late  for  a  meal,  or  not 
present  at  the  time  of  reading  evening  prayer,  that  rather 
than  vex  that  loving  motherly  heart,  which  yearned  over 
her  as  over  her  own  daughters,  the  Lady  Molly  forbore 
many  an  interesting  sea  adventure  and  wild  course  among 
the  woods  and  dunes. 

So  no  sooner  had  adieux  been  said,  and  the  lumbering 
coach-and-six  with  its  guards  and  running  footmen  had 
disappeared  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  than  the  Lady 
Molly,  who  had  watched  them  out  of  sight  from  the 
stair-landing  outside  the  house,  the  stone  "  perron," 
as  it  was  called  at  the  time,  turned  away  with  a  sigh  and 
ran  upstairs. 

She  came  down  in  half  an  hour,  her  hair  in  waving  love- 


S04.  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

locks  about  her  shoulders  and  carrying  a  bundle  under 
her  arm.  Without  once  looking  behind  her,  the  Lady 
Molly  cut  across  the  belt  of  grass  in  front  of  the  house, 
threaded  her  way  among  the  shrubberies  of  laurel  and 
evergreen  bushes  her  father  had  brought  back  with  him 
from  Holland  after  his  exile,  and  letting  herself  out  at 
the  water-port,  entered  the  dense  woods  which  stretched 
down  from  the  base  of  Danbury  Hill  to  the  sea. 

She  moved  nimbly  as  a  cat  among  the  debris  of  fallen 
trees  and  rotten  branches.  No  crackle  of  broken  brush- 
wood, or  twig  snapping  marked  her  nrogress.  Now  and 
then  the  shining  curls  flowing  upon  lier  shoulders,  tied  in 
a  true  love-knot,  could  be  seen  flitting  across  a  glade 
where  the  sunshine  wavered  in  golden  blots  and  wavering 
patches.  But  before  the  eye  could  take  in  the  rest  of  her 
figure,  it  had  melted  again  into  the  deep  green  solitude 
of  the  leaves,  which  are  here  so  dense  and  umbrageous 
that  even  the  winds  were  still  and  no  birds  sang. 

Molly  made  straight  for  a  little  creek  which  ran  up 
from  the  estuary.  Here  in  a  well-kept  boat-house  my 
Lord  had  several  boats,  from  a  tiny  skiff  to  the  ten-ton 
sloop  in  which,  when  occasion  called  for  sudden  ex- 
patriation, he  had  more  than  once  made  the  voyage  to 
Holland. 

Letting  herself  in  with  her  pass  key,  the  Lady  Molly 
soon  had  the  oars  in  the  skiff,  and,  having  again  secured 
the  door,  let  herself  drop  down  the  narrow  waterway 
easily  and  silently.  The  fresh  breath  of  the  inpouring 
salt  water,  grey-green  and  troubled  from  the  North  Sea, 
aided  her  to  keep  the  boat's  head  in  the  direction  of 
Colonel  Cromwell's  deserted  fortification  on  the  lower 
point  of  Osea  Island.  Indeed,  she  had  little  more  to  do 
than  steady  the  boat  with  a  stroke  or  two  of  the  steering 
oar  till  the  high  trees  of  Osea  rose  against  a  pensive 
horizon  of  primrose  and  violet. 

Lady  Molly  was  speeding  to  find  Nefia  la  Fain.  For  by 
the  common  report  upon  embroidering  which  the  Crom- 


NASEBY  MORNING  305 

well  girls  had  expended  all  the  wealth  of  their  imagina- 
tion, Neiia  had  been  to  Oxford  with  Hal  Ludlow  in  the 
famous  spying  venture  which  had  won  him  his  colonelcy, 
and  so  nearly  cost  him  his  neck.  She  had  gone  dis- 
guised, as  the  slave  of  a  necromancer,  and  had  returned 
driving  two  asses,  and — what  was  more  mysterious  than 
all — she  had  not  stirred  off  Osea  Island  since,  nor  yet 
had  Hal  Ludlow  visited  her. 

All  this  wrought  powerfully  on  the  imagination  of  the 
Lady  Molly.  It  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  her  to  think 
that  another  had  dared  life  and  honour  for  her  old  com- 
rade Hal,  put  her  all  at  his  service,  told  fortunes  and 
performed  antics  before  gaping  troops  and  stolid  villagers, 
seen  the  King  and  the  great  camp  with  him,  and  re- 
turned to  obscurity  that  he  might  have  the  glory  and  the 
honour.  No,  that  was  stupidity.  She,  Lady  Molly, 
would  have  stayed  and  had  her  part  of  what  honour  was 
going.  If  she  had  done  all  that — she  would  not  have 
come  quietly  back  and  gone  on  fishing  and  looking  her 
stake-nets  with  the  silent  Huguenot  Wassailer  for  all 
companion,  save  the  gulls  and  curlews  flying  in  flocks 
overhead. 

She  found  Neiia  busy  in  the  house.  Her  hair  was 
growing  again,  clustering  about  her  ears  and  falling  low 
upon  her  neck.  Her  brown  colour  was  now  no  deeper 
than  it  had  always  been,  but  under  the  lace  collar  of  her 
dress  she  still  wore  the  silver  collar  with  the  inscription, 
"  Sidi,  slave  of  Melchior  the  Mage."  Within  the  first 
minute  of  their  interview  the  Lady  Molly  had  divined 
what  the  white  ripples  of  lace  about  Neria's  neck  con- 
cealed, and  within  her  the  soul  was  consumed  with 
envy.  She  could  hardly  be  civil  and  yet  she  must,  for 
all  depended  upon  that. 

"  I  am  weary  of  great  houses  and  entertaining  great 
folks,"  she  cried.  "  I  have  come  down  here  to  you.  Oh, 
the  servants — they  will  think  nothing  save  that  I  have 
gone  ofif  to  London.    They  are  accustomed  to  me.    They 


306  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

were  all  there  when  we  defended  the  place — for  do  not 
forget  that  I  have  seen  war  and  danger  as  well  as  you. 
But  oh,  I  need  not  pretend.  I  grill  and  boil  when  I  think 
what  you  must  have  done  and  known.  If  only  he  had 
asked  me — but  no,  that  could  not  be.  There  are  too 
many  at  Oxford  who  would  have  known  me." 

"  But  not  as  a  slave-boy  with  your  hair  cut  and  dyed, 
a  stain  upon  your  face,  silver  rings  in  your  ears,  your 
legs  bare  and  brown  with  silver  chains  tinkling  about 
your  ankles " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Lady  Molly  exasperated,  "  how  dare  you 
remind  me?  I  can  hear  them  ringing — and  I  have 
pretty  ankles — why  was  I  not  born  a  gipsy  and  taught 


conjurmg 


"  I  could  really  do  very  httle,"  said  Nefia  softly,  "  and 
I  was  well  paid  for  my  pains.  Look  at  my  wages !  " 
And  she  pointed  to  the  two  grey  asses  tranquilly  crop- 
ping the  thistles  and  bent  grass  on  the  slope  beneath  the 
house. 

But  Lady  Molly  would  have  none  of  this.  She  knew 
better.  "  You — you  need  not  trouble  to  talk  of  wages 
to  me — you  went  because  of  the  adventure  and  to  be 
with  him.  You  took  my  place.  He  ought  to  have  thought 
of  me  .  .  .  for  I  love  him !  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Nefia  with  sad  tranquillity,  "  do  you  love 
him  also?  " 

"Also?  Then  you  confess  it.  Oh,  it  is  shameless. 
But,  of  course,  I  knew  it.  I  knew  it  always.  Why  else 
should  a  girl  follow  a  young  man,  if  not  for  love?  You 
have  robbed  me  of  what  was  mine  from  the  time  when  I 
was  a  long-legged  child  climbing  trees  and  mocking  him 
from  the  branches  that  he  might  catch  me  and  carry  me 
home.  You  have  stolen  Hal  from  me,  Neiia  la  Fain,  and 
I  shall  never  forgive  you." 

"  You  are  quite  wrong,"  said  Nefia,  "  he  never  lifted 
an  eye  upon  me,  nor  touched  me  with  his  hand.  He  was 
all  for  his  mission  and  the  regiment  he  was  to  gain.    Be- 


NASEBY  MORNING  307 

sides,  there  were  others — princesses  and  companions  of 
princes,  who  were  more  useful  to  him  than  either  you  or 
I — to  them  he  listened — only  too  readily !  " 

"  Ah,  do  not  tell  me,"  cried  the  Lady  Molly,  stopping 
her  ears,  "  the  madams,  the  hoydens,  the  evil  minxes. 
I  will  not  hear  a  word  against  him.  But  please  go  on — 
ah,  quickly.    Tell  me  all  about  them." 

"  There  was  but  one.  She  was  a  true  princess — but 
she  called  herself  the  Lady  Lulu.  She  followed  him  from 
the  first  sight  of  his  face " 

"And  he— did  he  love  her?" 

"  Love  her  ?  Can  he  love  any  woman  ?  He  treated 
her  as  so  much  earth  to  be  trampled  under  his  feet." 

"  I  know  him.  That  is  his  way.  So  he  does  with  all. 
But  did  he  Hsten  to  her?" 

"  Listen  ?  Aye,  with  both  ears  and  his  mouth  and  his 
eyes  so  long  as  she  had  anything  to  tell  him." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  to  him,  this  .  .  .  Woman?" 

"  Ah,  that  I  do  not  know.  He  sent  me  on  errands  to 
keep  me  out  of  the  way.  I  leaned  against  the  orchard 
trees  and  saw  the  pavilion  glow  in  the  darkness." 

The  Lady  Molly  leaped  to  her  feet  with  a  glad  light  in 
her  eyes.  "  Then  you  do  not  love  him  as  I  love  him. 
I  should  have  crept  up  like  a  worm  and  listened.  I 
should  have  slit  the  tent  with  my  dagger  point  and 
seen !  " 

"  Perhaps  there  was  nothing  to  hear  or  see  ?  At  any 
rate,  all  he  cared  about  was  the  number  of  men  and 
cannon — the  size  of  the  pieces  and  how  many  horses  were 
ready  to  draw  them,  which  General  was  to  go  with  the 
King  and  who  with  the  Princes " 

"  She  told  him  all  these  things — the  traitress  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Lady  Molly,  a  traitress,  indeed !  Neither  you 
nor  I  would  have  done  the  like !  " 

There  was  such  a  point  of  irony  in  this  that  it  aroused 
Lady  Molly. 

"  Oh,  as  for  me — I  make  no  secret  of  it  to  you — what 


308  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

need?  You  cannot  tell  me  anything  about  Hal  Ludlow 
I  do  not  know.  He  is  selfish,  masterful,  not  a  little  brutal. 
That  is  his  way  with  women — with  you,  with  me — and 
I  do  not  doubt  with  this  woman  who  called  herself  a 
princess.     What  became  of  her?" 

"  He  sent  her  back  where  she  came  from,  as  soon  as  he 
had  wrung  out  all  she  knew,  as  one  squeezes  a  wet 
sponge  in  the  hand — so!" 

"  And  you  came  back  together,  you  and  he  ? " 

"  He  rode  straight  to  Ely  where  was  his  General,  and 
I  came  home  driving  the  asses  which  I  had  earned.  Are 
you  satisfied  ?  " 

Lady  Molly  paused  a  moment  pondering. 

"  There  is  no  more  in  it  than  that  ?  " 

"  Not  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Nefia  with  the 
pensive  tranquillity  she  had  maintained  all  through. 

"Then  what  is  that  about  your  neck?  If  it  is  not  a 
love  gage,  show  it  me?" 

Very  quietly  the  girl  undid  the  fold  of  lace  and  showed 
the  broad  collar  of  rough  silver. 

"  Sidi,  slave  of  Melchior  the  Mage,"  she  read.  "  Then 
you  do  love  him  ? "  she  cried,  her  first  exasperation 
returning.  "  Give  it  me,  quick.  It  is  mine.  I  will  have 
it." 

"  You  are  welcome  if  you  can  undo  it.  But  only  he 
who  put  it  on  can  take  it  ofif,  and  I  fear  he  has  lost  the 
key.    So  I  shall  wear  it  till  I  die." 

"  I  will  make  him  give  me  one — the  same,  but  heavier 
and  in  iron !  "  cried  impetuous  Molly.  But  Nefia  la  Fain 
shook  her  head. 

"  You  shall  carry  your  collar,  surely,  if  you  love  Hal 
Ludlow  as  you  say.  But  it  need  not  be  in  metal  nor  yet 
covered  with  lace.  Yet  just  the  same  he  will  clasp  it 
about  your  neck — and  lose  the  key." 


XXXV 

A  STATE  BANQUET 

IT  was  the  night  of  a  great  dinner  given  by  Mr.  Chief 
Commissioner  Ludlow  in  his  house  in  Westminster 
close  by  St,  Margaret's  Church.  Even  before  his 
Commissionership  Mr.  Ludlow  had  been  one  of  the  rich- 
est merchants  of  the  city,  and  to  him  before  any  other  the 
Committee  of  the  Houses  had  applied  for  money.  If 
Essex  grumbled  and  demanded  payment  for  his  troops, 
it  was  from  Mr.  Commissioner  Ludlow  that  advice  was 
taken  how  to  raise  it.  He  had  his  hand  deep  in  the 
finances  of  the  Parliament.  He  had  been  contractor  for 
the  New  Model  Army,  and  now  at  Ludlow  House,  close 
to  the  centre  of  authority  in  England,  and  acting  unseen 
almost  with  the  power  of  a  spring  in  a  watch-case,  the 
great  man  had  his  dwelling. 

His  show  of  gold  plate  and  liveried  valetry  was  such  as 
no  nobleman  in  England  was  in  a  position  to  make  at  the 
time.  They  had  grown  poorer  while,  as  honestly  as  any 
great  dealer  in  money  and  state  contracts  may,  the 
Chief  Commissioner  had  waxed  ever  richer.  How  rich 
that  was  only  his  chief  clerk  knew — a  little  wrinkled  man 
who  lived  over  the  Ludlow  offices  in  the  East  Cheap  and 
rubbed  his  hands  each  time  he  thought  of  the  balance- 
sheet  he  would  have  to  show  his  patron  on  the  thirty- 
first  December  of  the  current  year. 

Ludlow  House  had  been  built  and  beautified  by  a 
great  nobleman  now  living  frugally  in  Paris  on  forty 
sous  a  day  and  his  gambling  gains.  But  it  had  been 
remodelled  as  a  place  of  entertainment  by  the  Commis- 
sioner, and  Scots  Smith,  his  trusty  servant  of  fifty  years, 

809 


310  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

was  in  charge  of  everything  between  rooftree  and  cellar. 
In  spite  his  name  Smith  was  a  border  Scot  who  had 
come  up  in  the  train  of  King  Jamie  Baggie  Breeches  when 
he  brought  so  many  hungry  dogs  to  hunt  the  forests  of 
England.  And  Abiathar  Smith  had  hunted  well,  so  well 
indeed  that  he  had  safely  stowed  away  with  various 
trustable  jewellers  of  his  master's  friends  a  sum  quite 
large  enough  to  pay  for  a  good  estate  anywhere  between 
Sanquhar  and  Nith  Waterfoot.  And  this  was  the  night 
of  the  glory  of  Abiathar,  the  crown  of  his  pride.  As  he 
himself  said,  he  rejoiced  like  a  calf  of  the  stall,  like  a 
wild  goat  upon  Mount  Carmel.  And  sometimes  (it  must 
be  added)  his  words  stung  the  idle  or  the  stupid  like  the 
scorpion  of  the  rocks  which  carries  a  sting  in  its  tail. 

"  The  General  Cromwell,"  announced  Abiathar,  open- 
ing the  door  of  the  Hall  of  Assembly,  in  a  lower  tone, 
adding,  "  Lord  save  us.  Here's  promotion !  Maist  as 
great  as  my  ain,  though  a  heap  less  secure." 

"  The  General  Fairfax,  Commander  of  all  the  Armies 
in  the  Field !  "  And  then  in  a  lower  tone — "  Aye  battlin' 
and  fetchin',  thae  Generals,  and  as  like  as  no  turned  oot 
of  their  job  next  month — only  him  wi'  the  big  heid  and 
the  wart  on  his  nose  will  no  be  easy  to  turn — aye,  a  gey 
dour  stick  to  handle,  him." 

With  the  great  props  of  both  Houses  were  joined  a  few 
younger  men,  soldiers  and  politicians  for  the  most  part, 
whom  the  far-seeing  Commissioner  considered  might  be 
of  use  to  his  son  in  his  military  career. 

Even  here,  however,  Abiathar  counselled  his  master. 
"  The  son  o'  General  Qromwell — aye,  gie  him  an  invite. 
It  will  please  his  faither  and  wha  kens  what  may  come  to 
pass.  And  that  young  Hampden,  though  he's  nocht  this 
day  may  be  as  great  as  his  faither  was." 

So  that  on  the  night  of  the  great  dinner  in  the  wains- 
coted dining-room  Hal  did  not  find  himself  alone  wag- 
ging a  young  head  among  the  seniors.  Yet  among  those 
chiefs  few  showed  signs  of  age.    It  was  a  time  of  shaven 


A  STATE  BANQUET  311 

faces,  which  of  itself  so  levels  men  as  to  make  uncertain 
ten  years  of  their  age. 

At  the  door,  and  especially  outside  the  archway  of  the 
court,  the  usual  motley  crowd  had  gathered,  amphibious 
scum  of  the  ferry  landings,  haunters  of  the  slips  where 
false  watermen  touted  for  tipsy  revellers  who  were  next 
heard  of  at  Greenwich  or  Rotherhithe.  But  these  had 
been  pushed  aside  with  very  little  ceremony  by  the  New 
Model  guard,  sturdy  troopers  in  red  coats,  dark  grey 
knee-breeches  and  top  boots,  helmeted  and  breastplated 
from  the  wars.  The  spawn  of  the  Westminster  purlieus 
and  the  murderous  or  merely  thievish  water-rats,  male 
and  female  after  their  kind,  pushed  and  crawled  among 
the  horses'  legs  to  see  the  great  folk  go  in.  Entertain- 
ments of  that  kind  came  not  so  frequently  as  in  the  day 
of  kings  and  princes. 

But  there  was  no  mistaking  that  the  musket-butts  of 
the  Cromwellians  were  harsher  than  the  halberds  of  the 
royal  guards.  These  were  men  by  no  means  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  so  to  assauge  themselves  the  cruel  crowd 
turned  to  rend  in  pieces  anything  weak,  unknown,  or  un- 
protected. A  young  fellow  in  a  rough  costume  of  sailorly 
cut,  which  hung  loosely  about  him,  had  his  pockets  picked, 
and  the  pickers,  not  finding  enough  upon  him  to  quarrel 
about,  promptly  knocked  him  down  with  a  "  Take  that, 
loblolly!  That's  for  coming  here  without  your  month's 
pay !  "  The  lad  fell,  and  would  have  been  trampled  to 
death  but  that  his  shrill  cry  of  distress  was  heard  by  a 
sergeant,  who  promptly  rescued  him  from  among  the 
heels  of  the  horses — and  only  just  in  time,  for  the  well- 
exercised  troop  was  pushing  the  crowd  steadily  back.  An 
officer  upon  the  steps,  standing  a  moment  in  conference 
with  the  haughty  Abiathar,  called  out  sharply,  "  What  is 
the  matter  there,  Sergeant  Peter  Yabbs  ?  " 

"  A  young  man,  hurt,  asking  for  the  Colonel ! " 

Captain  Zered  Tuby  came  down  the  steps  at  a  run. 
What  interested  his  superior  officer  was  very  much  his 


313  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

business,  and  it  came  upon  him  that,  for  reasons  which 
were  quite  apparent  to  Zered,  his  Colonel  was  often  as  he 
expressed  it  "  sore  pestered  with  women,  and  the  poor 
lad  has  not  the  heart  to  say  them  nay."  He  judged  that 
this  would  be  some  messenger  or  servant  despatched  in 
haste.  At  any  rate  it  was  no  time  to  have  the  name  of 
the  Colonel  of  the  Cambridgers  bandied  about  in  hearing 
of  the  mob  about  his  own  father's  door. 

"  This  way  with  him,  Yabbs — close  up  there,  men !  " 
And  a  young  man,  his  face  indistinguishable  with  dirt 
and  blood,  his  sailor  slops  torn  to  the  knee  and  on  his 
stained  features  an  expression  of  absolute  terror  and 
bewilderment,  found  himself  hoisted  up  the  steps  by 
Zered  and  Sergeant  Yabbs.  The  door  was  shut,  and  be- 
hind it,  in  the  soft  glimmer  of  many  wax  candles  and  the 
silent  to-and-fro  of  liveried  servants,  each  busy  on  his 
affairs,  they  came  face  to  face  with  the  true  master  of 
Ludlow  House,  Abiathar  Smith. 

"  What's  this — wha  are  ye  bringing  into  ma  clean  ha'  ? 
Somebody  asking  for  the  Colonel,  say  ye.  What  Colonel? 
Wha  needs  to  be  speerin'  for  a  bit  Cornel  when  there's 
Generals  by  the  hogshead  up  yonder?" 

"  'Tis  Colonel  Ludlow  the  lad  is  asking  for,"  said 
Zered  shortly,  "  and  what  is  more,  I  think  he  had  better 
see  him." 

"  Colonel  Ludlow,  quo  he ! "  muttered  the  Scots 
major-domo,  "  fegs,  it  will  be  oor  young  Maister  Harry 
he  will  be  wantin'.  What  deil's  ain  ploy  has  the  chiel* 
been  at  noo?  Here,  into  my  private  parlour  wi'  him, 
and  we  will  make  him  confess — aye,  if  we  have  to  put 
the  branks  on  him !  " 

Zered  had  to  remind  him  that  while  branks,  pilniewinks 
and  other  curiously  named  instruments  of  extracting  evi- 
dence might  be  current  in  baronial  Scotland,  they  could 
not  be  used  with  impunity  in  England  nor  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Houses. 

"  But  perhaps,"  suggested  Zered,  "  he  is  a  friend  of 


A  STATE  BANQUET  313 

your  young  master's."  Abiathar  glanced  at  the  shrinking 
figure  with  one  look  of  enveloping  scorn.  "  Him  a  friend 
o'  Maister  Harry's — him!  .  .  .  Man,  it's  little  ye  ken 
aboot  young  Hairry  Ludlow.  Rather  'tis  such  as  walk 
haughtily,  mincing  as  they  go,  in  the  bravery  of  their 
tinkling  ornament  and  their  tires  round  as  the  moon — 
it's  them  that  will  be  the  lad's  hobby,  mair's  the  peety — ' 
no  the  like  o'  him — a  mere  wisp  o'  rags!  Dod,  but  he 
wad  be  the  better  o'  a  wash.  We  will  tak'  him  up  to 
Maister  Harry's  room  and  lock  him  in  till  I  get  a  chance 
to  sough  a  word  in  his  lug.  For  ye  see  the  young  man's 
at  table — no  exactly  at  the  high  table.  Ye  couldna 
expect  that,  but  kind  o'  croupier  at  the  foot  as  becomes 
his  faither's  son.  But  get  ye  the  laddie  washed  and 
faceable,  Abiathar  Smith  will  be  responsible  for  the 
rest." 

So  it  chanced  that  just  as  Hal  was  leaning  back  after 
explaining  the  Cromwellian  theory  of  a  cavalry  attack  to 
a  most  worthy  member  of  the  Committee  of  Both  King- 
doms, a  voice  spoke  in  his  ear. 

"  There's  a  laddie  will  be  wantin'  to  speak  to  ye, 
Maister  Hairry.  Ye  had  better  gang  up  to  your  chamber 
— as  it  were,  makin'  an  excuse  as  that  one  of  your  cap- 
tains is  waiting  for  you — whilk  is  God's  truth  and  no  lie. 
For  Zered  Tuby,  that  Amalakite  Anabaptist,  is  washin' 
the  glaur  aff  the  laddie — aye,  and  sair  he  needs  it." 

Hal  looked  much  astonished,  but  excused  himself  to 
the  company  about  the  table-foot  on  the  plea  of  military 
duty.  He  ran  up  the  stairs  three  at  a  time,  and  bursting 
in  the  door  with  his  usual  headlong  abruptness  found 
Zered  putting  gold  leaf  on  a  cut  deep-hidden  among  the 
short  curls  above  a  young  man's  brow.  He  was  in  shirt- 
sleeves, and  the  collar  had  been  torn  at  the  neck  by 
rough  hands.  Also  the  youth  wept,  moaning  softly  and 
rocking  himself  back  and  forth. 

"Lady  Molly!"  cried  Hal  aghast.  "What  are  you 
doing  here?  " 


314  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

But  before  he  received  an  answer  Zered  Tuby  had 
faded  from  view.  Simply  he  was  not,  and  the  door  was 
shut.  Even  an  Anabaptist  Hog  Laner  can  conceive  when 
the  nature  and  functions  of  a  gooseberry  become  super- 
fluous. 

And  still,  with  her  face  between  her  hands,  the  tears 
dropping  through  unregarded,  the  girl  who  had  held  the 
Towers  of  Danbury  and  ridden  with  Rupert  sobbed  on 
convulsively. 

"  Oh,  the  brutes,  the  brutes !  "  she  repeated,  "  they 
knocked  me  down  and  trod  upon  me,  when  I  only  asked 
for  you !  " 

Hal  was  touched  by  her  distress  and  kneeled  beside  her, 
much  perplexed  in  mind,  but  still  with  a  sudden  hot 
flush,  recognising  that,  whatever  his  experiences  in  "  pet- 
ticoating  "  may  have  been,  he  had  never  truly  cared  for 
anybody  but  the  little  Molly  Woodham  whom  he  had 
bullied  so. 

He  was,  however,  in  no  mind  for  bullying  now. 

"  But  why  did  you  come,  and  like  this — your  father  is 
here — in  this  house?" 

"  Oh,  will  he  come  in?  Lock  the  door,  Hal,  my  dear 
Hal.  I  have  been  abominable,  I  know.  I  am  a  shameless 
girl.  But  oh,  I  could  not  have  that  Nefia  going  every- 
where with  you,  with  her  conjuring  tricks  and  her  silver 
collar!  Oh.  it  made  me  desperate.  I  could  not  stay.  So 
as  my  father  will  not  let  me  marry  you,  I  have  run  away 
to  be  your  slave.  And  you  have  just  got  to  bear  it.  For 
you  know  you  told  me  that  you  loved  me  and  wanted  me 
to  be  your  wife.  You  never  said  that  to  her!  Swear  you 
did  not!" 

"  Never — never — not  to  any  her !  "  said  Hal  promptly, 
performing  his  function  of  good  male  by  lying  with 
effrontery. 

"  I  knew  it — I  knew  it,"  she  whispered,  clinging  to  him. 
"  Let  me  stay  with  you.  You  can  get  me  a  silver 
collar   exactly    the   same — as   hers — and    if    my    father 


A  STATE  BANQUET  315 

will  not  let  us  marry,  he  cannot  prevent  me  being  your 
slave." 

Hal  felt  that  it  was  no  use  arguing  with  the  Lady  Molly 
in  her  present  state  of  mind,  still  stunned  by  ill-treatment 
and  not  yet  returned  to  herself  out  of  the  hurly-burly  of 
a  world  so  different  from  any  that  she  had  imagined. 

What  should  he  do  with  her?  My  Lord  Woodham 
Walter  declined  to  wed  his  only  daughter  to  the  son  of  a 
city  merchant  and  the  nephew  of  the  reddest  revolu- 
tionary Anabaptist  in  England.  He  could  not  speak  to 
his  father.  No,  he  certainly  had  no  idea  of  opening  such 
a  matter  as  the  presence  of  Lady  Molly  in  his  house  to 
the  financier  of  the  Parliament. 

He  had  it — the  General! 

He  would  rather  face  the  lightning  at  once  than  have  it 
strike  him  if  scandal  were  to  come  of  this. 

"  Molly,"  he  said,  "  stay  here.  I  have  military  duties 
to  perform,  but  I  promise  you  to  return.  Do  not  be 
alarmed  at  the  noise  of  the  carriages.  My  father  is  giving 
a  great  dinner  to  the  chiefs  of  the  Houses.  But  lest  any- 
one should  come  in  and  find  you  here,  I  shall  lock  the 
door ! " 

Molly  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  as  if  everything 
were  now  plain  before  them.  She  stopped  him  at  the 
door,  running  up  to  him  and  whispering,  "  Do  not  forget 
the  collar — the  same  size  as  hers,  but  heavier!  " 

"  I  shall  not  forget,"  he  answered  gravely  and  went  out, 
locking  and  double  locking  the  door  after  him. 

But  as  soon  as  he  had  passed  the  portal  his  face  fell. 
He  had  as  little  desire  as  ever  in  his  Hfe  to  disturb  the 
great  General  on  such  an  occasion.  He  was  sure  to  be  in 
a  bad  humour,  for  he  loved  not  what  he  called  "  glorify- 
ings  of  the  flesh,"  knowing  that  a  man  who  rode  and 
fought  as  the  greatest  cavalry  leader  in  Europe  must  ride 
and  fight,  had  better  live  spare,  hard,  and  clean.  Nor 
would  he  suffer  any  others  in  his  command. 

In   the   dining-room    Cromwell,   placed   between   Mr. 


816  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

Speaker  Lenthal  and  my  Lord  of  Manchester,  neither  of 
whom  he  loved,  leaned  back  and  gazed  abstractedly  at 
the  massive  gilt  cornices  of  the  state  banquet  hall.  Really 
he  saw  nothing  but  some  vision  of  red  coats  galloping 
through  the  white  reek  of  battle,  or  perhaps  (and  the 
thing  is  more  likely)  his  own  good  Dame  at  her  broider- 
ing  by  the  fireplace  and  the  children  busy  with  their 
lessons  in  the  quiet  parlour  of  the  Tithe  House  in  Ely 
Town. 

Hal,  with  Zered  summoned  in  support  of  his  Colonel, 
appeared  at  his  elbow. 

"  General,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  at  such 
a  moment,  but  I  have  something  of  importance  to  put 
before  you." 

Cromwell,  who  was  bored  to  distraction,  made  his 
excuses  and  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment.  Every  man  in 
the  room  observed  the  summons  of  the  General  by  two 
of  his  officers.  And  heads  were  drawn  together  and  sur- 
mises passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  as  to  the  meaning  and 
outcome  of  these  things.  All  the  world  knew  that  Crom- 
well had  sources  of  information  quite  special,  and  also 
that,  sole  among  the  generals  of  the  Parliament,  he  had 
grown  great  enough  to  initiate  a  movement  for  himself 
without  waiting  for  orders.  Had  the  King  made  a  dash 
out  of  his  Oxford  fastness?  Was  another  great  cavalry 
raid  in  prospect?  For  already  the  voices  of  the  greatest 
began  singularly  to  soften,  as  if  already  the  name  of 
Cromwell  had  begun  to  cast,  as  it  were,  over  the  land  the 
Shadow  of  a  Silence. 

Meanwhile  in  the  little  hall  parlour,  with  Abiathar's 
household  gods  all  about — Knox's  History  of  the  Refor- 
mation, Mr.  Gillespie's  Sermons,  the  new  Truro  psalter 
with  many  criticisms  and  suggestions  marked  in  a  fair 
and  clerkly  hand — Cromwell,  seated  in  the  high-backed, 
soft-cushioned  grandfather's  chair  In  which  Ablathar  took 
his  scanty  ease,  awaited  his  officer's  report. 

Hal  made  it  as  briefly  as  possible. 


A  STATE  BANQUET  317 

"  General,"  he  said,  standing  stiff  by  the  Httle  table, 
"  it  is  upon  my  own  affairs  I  have  to  consult  you.  It  may 
be  known  to  you  that  there  has  long  been  purpose  of 
marriage  between  the  Lady  Molly  Woodham  and  myself. 
So  much  was  known  to  your  wife  and  daughters,  who 
showed  me  sympathy  when  my  Lord  forbade  me  the 
house." 

Cromwell  nodded,  but  warily,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  knows  not  what  he  may  be  called  upon  to  approve. 

"  And  now,  moved  by  some  fancy,  she  has  left  home 
and  come  hither  in  a  boy's  dress,  in  which  she  was  most 
inhumanly  treated  by  the  crowd  outside,  from  whose 
hands  she  was  rescued  by  Zered,  and  is  now  in  this 
house." 

"  In  this  house !  "  exclaimed  Cromwell ;  "  you  go  fast, 
young  man.    I  must  have  a  word  with  the  lady." 

"  Upon  my   word   of   honour ,"   began   Hal,   but 

Cromwell  instantly  checked  him. 

"  No  need  of  that,"  he  said,  "  had  it  been  otherwise 
you  had  never  dared  to  face  me.  All  the  same,  I  would 
speak  with  Lady  Molly — where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Locked  in  my  bedroom !  "  said  Hal  humbly. 

"  Very  well,  give  me  the  key  and  wait  till  I  return." 

The  General  was  gone  the  better  part  of  an  hour.  He 
came  in  looking  austere  as  though  he  had  been  visiting 
a  battle-field.  But  there  was  a  suspicion  of  humour  in 
the  droop  of  the  mouth  and  in  the  tone  in  which  he  said, 
"  Well,  young  man,  it  is  clear  to  me  that  the  sooner  you 
are  married  and  settled  the  better  it  will  be  for  the  service 
and  for  the  Cambridge  regiment.  But  who  put  all  that 
nonsense  in  her  head  about  slaves  and  silver  collars  ?  " 

"  I  think  she  is  not  quite  recovered  from  her  adven- 
tures and  rough  usage,"  said  Hal. 

"  Very  likely — very  likely,"  said  Cromwell.  "  In  any 
case  it  does  not  matter.  I  have  bidden  her  go  to  sleep 
and  be  a  good  girl.  I  have  sent  her  up  some  supper,  and 
seen  that  she  ate  it.    Then  I  locked  the  door  and  brought 


318  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

away  the  key.  As  for  the  father,  I  charge  myself  with 
him.  Before  I  have  finished  with  him  he  shall  be  glad 
and  happy  to  find  such  a  husband  for  his  daughter  as  one 
of  my  colonels.  Now  let  us  go  back  to  dinner.  You  come 
home  with  me  to-night." 


XXXVI 

HIGH  STRATEGY 

GENERAL  CROMWELL'S  quarters  were  of  the 
sort  that  might  be  called  strictly  military  and 
rudimentary.  He  had  caused  a  wooden  partition 
to  be  put  up,  cutting  off  a  triangle.  Then  he  had  knocked 
a  hole  in  the  outside  wall,  inserted  a  circular  window,  and 
so  within  sound  of  the  snoring  of  his  troopers  made  his 
home  on  the  second  floor  of  the  new  barracks  behind 
Whitehall. 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  the  General  and  Hal  passed 
through  the  black  and  silent  streets,  while  the  coaches 
were  still  whirling  off  the  guests  of  Mr.  Commissioner 
Ludlow  to  their  mansions  in  Norfolk  Street  or  the  city. 

They  walked  long  silent  under  the  stars,  sometimes 
striding  carelessly  through  a  maze  of  streets,  sometimes 
skirting  the  river  bank.  Night-hawking  figures  raking  a 
livelihood  out  of  midnight  London  now  and  then  ap- 
proached them  thus  promenading  at  their  ease,  but  at 
sight  of  the  insignia  of  military  rank,  and  of  those  two 
strong-armed  men  passing  so  serenely  along,  they  slunk 
back  into  the  obscurity  natural  to  their  deeds. 

Something  eminently  secure  and  even  peaceful  radiated 
from  the  companionship  of  the  great  man  of  war.  Hal 
walked  grateful  and  almost  happy  in  the  pregnant  com- 
panionship of  this  man's  silence.  The  mere  ring  of  his 
spurred  heels  on  the  paving  stones  seemed  somehow  to 
solve  the  problems  of  existence,  or  to  make  them  so  little 
that  they  solved  themselves. 

This  man  thought  for  the  welfare  of  three  kingdoms, 

819 


HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

yet  he  could  find  time  to  take  trouble  about  the  tangled 
love  affairs  of  a  somewhat  careless  young  officer.  Now 
and  then  a  patrol  would  jingle  up,  flash  a  lantern  upon 
the  two,  salute,  and  pass  on,  marvelling  greatly  what 
General  Cromwell  and  his  aide  were  doing  within  Temple 
Bar  at  that  hour. 

They  looked  down  upon  the  great  flood  which  passes 
under  London  Bridge,  and  watched  the  reflected  stars 
tremble  and  dissolve  as  the  flaws  of  night  wind  stirred 
the  surface  into  small  trembling  wavelets. 

"Can  any  man  cleanse  that?"  Cromwell's  voice  came 
to  Hal's  ear  like  that  of  a  man  meditating  in  a  solitary 
place.  "  Once  it  came  from  a  crystal  spring,  up  on  a 
hillside,  cupful  by  cupful.  The  lambs  drank  and  were 
satisfied.  So  narrow  was  it  that  in  play  they  leaped 
across  it.  Now  who  can  span  it,  who  touch  it  without 
being  soiled?  Such  is  our  life.  God  gave  it.  He  alone 
can  cleanse  it.  Out  yonder  (he  flapped  a  riding  gauntlet 
in  the  direction  of  the  sea)  is  cleansing.  A  mile  or  two  of 
salt  water  and  all  this  flood  of  impurity  and  shame  shall 
be  cleansed — its  filth  and  our  sins  sunk  in  the  deep  sea 
of  His  forgetfulness !  " 

He  laid  his  hand  heavily  upon  the  young  man's 
shoulder.  "  But  I  speak  things  you  are  too  young  to 
understand.    Listen !  " 

The  great  bell  of  Paul's  rang  out  the  midnight,  twelve 
solemn  strokes,  and  on  the  back  of  that  came  to  their 
ears  the  multitudinous  clangour  of  the  bells  of  London 
announcing  the  new  day. 

"  Your  marriage  morn — I  wish  you  just  so  much  happi- 
ness as  I  have  known  myself,  though  I  doubt  if  you  will 
get  it.  Young  women  who  run  off  to  be  slaves  to  agree- 
able young  gentlemen  will  need  some  leading — more  than 
raising  and  commanding  Hog  Lane." 

"  And  that,  God  knows,  was  no  sinecure ! "  said 
Colonel  Hal. 

*'  This  time  you  will  have  no  Zered,"  said  the  General. 


HIGH  STRATEGY  321 

"  I  am  not  sure — Zered  is  a  man  of  counsel,"  said  Hal, 
encouraged  by  the  tone  of  Cromwell's  voice  in  the  dark- 
ness. And  he  told  of  Zered's  rescue  of  Lady  Molly  from 
the  mob,  of  his  careful  surgery,  and  of  how,  upon  his 
coming,  he  had  left  her  to  the  care  of  his  superior 
officer. 

And  Oliver,  seldom  moved  to  mirth,  found  nothing  to 
laugh  at. 

They  were  walking  back  now,  and  pausing  before  a 
tall  house,  the  General  pointed  to  the  solitary  light  which 
lit  a  window  high  up  under  the  eaves  of  the  building. 

"  Yonder  dwells  a  man  sometime  married — but  un- 
happy. Oh,  do  not  start,  I  draw  no  moral.  He  is  un- 
happy because  he  hath  chosen  ill.  The  thing  is  simple  as 
cause  and  efifect.  He  is  a  wise  man,  John  Milton  by 
name — you  have  read  his  tractates,  much  mistaken  on 
many  things,  but  I  shall  make  somewhat  of  him.  We 
shall  yet  do  great  things  for  England,  he  and  I. 

"  But  his  wife  loves  not  books.  Her  folk  are  of  the 
King's  party.  She  is  young.  She  is  innocent.  She  loves 
gaiety  and  life — not  a  husband  who  sits  all  day  with  his 
nose  in  a  book.  To-morrow  we  shall  find  something  for 
her  to  do." 

He  waited  till  the  patrol  came  round  and  then  having 
commended  their  diligence  he  bade  the  sergeant  in  com- 
mand to  light  him  upstairs  to  the  chamber  in  which 
burned  the  student's  lamp. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  was  back  again,  and  dis- 
missing the  guard,  they  two  made  their  way  back  towards 
the  Westminster  barracks. 

"  Seldom  indeed  does  God  give  any  man  the  mate  his 
honour  demands,"  so  he  meditated,  "■  because  for  the 
most  part  man  is  a  lazy  animal  and  needs  the  spur  of 
contradiction,  the  whip  of  necessity." 

The  General  paused  a  moment  to  let  a  crowd  of  noisy 
young  men  go  by  on  their  way  to  their  chambers  in  the 
Temple.    Their  chants  died  within  them  at  sight  of  the 


322  HAL  O'  THE  IRONSIDES 

glittering  helmets  with  their  white  plumes  and  the  tall 
man  who  stood  so  silently  regarding  them. 

"  I  speak  not  for  myself,"  continued  Cromwell. 
"  Providence  and  mine  own  choice  have  fitted  me  like  a 
glove. 

"  Never  have  I  gone  down  the  stairs  at  Ely  without  my 
wife  Elizabeth  (the  Lord  reward  her!)  saying  after  me, 
'  Take  care  of  the  last  step.  It  is  treacherous.  Be  sure 
not  to  take  cold !  Remember,  your  scarf  is  in  your  right 
pocket.    Your  handkerchief  in  the  left ! ' 

"  And  then  with  a  sigh  the  dear  soul  goes  back  to  her 
prayers  and  her  embroidery.  She  has  done  her  part. 
Now  it  belongs  to  God  to  do  the  rest.  You  do  wrong  to 
laugh,  Master  Hal " 

"  Sir,  I  laughed  not — there  arose  something — some- 
thing in  my  throat,  thinking  of  my  mother." 

"  A  good  lad — good  lad !  Yes,  you  have  hit  it — Dame 
Elizabeth  is  as  a  mother  to  me.  But  make  no  mistake. 
I  do  not  make  light  of  her  warnings.  You  have  seen  me 
take  several  wounds,  but  never  a  cold.  Even  at  Gains- 
borough Fight  and  on  Marston  Moor  I  never  forgot  that 
my  neck-scarf  was  in  my  right  pocket  and  my  handker- 
chief in  my  left !  " 

They  slept  side  by  side  in  the  rude  pine-boarded  angle 
of  the  cavalry  barracks,  Hal  on  the  bed  and  the  General 
throwing  himself  down  on  a  mattress  in  the  corner  under 
the  window.  So  the  General  wished  it  to  be,  and  so  it 
was.  For  the  difference  between  Oliver's  wishes  and  his 
commands  was  so  slight  as  to  be  imperceptible. 

When  Hal  woke  up  he  found  pinned  to  the  table  a 
hasty  note  which  read,  "  Go  to  Doctor's  Commons.  Buy 
a  marriage  license.    Here  is  the  money !  " 

Cromwell  had  risen  early  and  for  purposes  of  his  own 
had  gone  in  search  of  my  Lord  Woodham  Walter.  He 
knew  that,  in  company  with  a  good  many  other  free 
drinkers  and  large  talkers,  my  Lord  made  a  practice  of 


HIGH  STRATEGY  323 

sleeping  where  he  dined.  His  London  house  was  not 
open,  since  in  the  gay  and  careless  life  he  led  in  London 
he  could  not  be  troubled  with  an  unwedded  daughter  to 
chaperon  and  provide  occupation  for. 

At  Ludlow  House  Abiathar  Smith,  as  precise  in 
well-brushed  suit  of  black  with  gold  chain  and  silk 
hose,  as  if  he  had  never  taken  them  off,  received  the 
General. 

"  My  Lord  Woodham  Walter  ? — Aye,  General,  aye. 
He  will  be  here — where  else,  and  a  bonny  ruffle  o'  kettle- 
drums he  will  be  carrying  on  his  shoothers.  I  hae  juist 
ta'en  him  up  a  lang  tumbler  o'  <hae  uncanny  German 
salts  and  stood  over  him  till  he  took  them.  That's  yae 
guid  turn  Rupert  did  us  major-domos.  Can  ye  see  him? 
Aye,  that  ye  can,  and  a  bonny  sicht  ye'll  hae  o'  him. 
This  way,  General,  'tis  well  there  are  some  sober  men  left 
on  the  earth !  Oh,  usquebee  is  a  good  thing  in  its  place, 
and  also  a  drop  brandy  by  whiles.  But  this  German 
salts  is  the  real  blessin'  o'  Providence.  Instead  o'  the 
hoose  cluttered  up  till  mid-afternoon  wi'  snorin'  folk,  ye 
have  your  chambers  all  ordered  by  ten  o'  the  clock. — But 
here's  the  door.  Shall  I  gang  first,  for  he's  in  nae  sort  o' 
a  friendly  humour.  You  might  chance  to  get  a  tankard 
at  your  head !  " 

"I  must* risk  it,"  said  Cromwell  grimly.  "I  am  in  no 
great  danger.  What  I  have  to  say  to  my  Lord  would 
serve  to  sober  most  men." 

He  opened  the  door  and  stepped  within.  A  man  with 
a  neck  thick  and  ruddy  with  fat  sat  on  the  edge  of  a 
bed  impatiently  muttering  to  himself  and  occasionally 
stamping  his  foot. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  want  ?  "  he  threw  the  words 
over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of  the  open  door  with- 
out looking  round, 

"  I  am  not  *  what  the  devil '  anybody,"  said  a  grave 
voice  which  caused  my  Lord  instantly  to  wheel  about 
and  in  the  same  movement  to  rise  to  his  feet. 


SM  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

"  Your  pardon,  General,"  he  said,  looking  flustered, 
"  I  thought  it  was  that  cursed  Scotch  serving  man  who 
afflicts  me  with  his  remedies." 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  come  with  me,  my  Lord,"  Crom- 
well cut  in  with  much  gravity  of  demeanour.  "  I  have  a 
perquisition  to  make  in  the  chamber  of  the  son  of  our 
host  of  last  night,  Colonel  Henry  Ludlow  of  the  Cam- 
bridge Horse." 

A  gleam  of  mahcious  pleasure  flashed  into  the  eyes  of 
my  Lord.  "  Is  it  a  matter  of  treason?  "  he  said,  knowing 
what  was  the  penalty  in  such  cases  and  how  it  was  applied 
by  General  Cromwell  without  fear  or  favour. 

"  I  act  upon  information  received,"  said  the  General. 
"  But  we  waste  time.  Smith,  show  us  to  Colonel  Lud- 
low's room." 

Abiathar,  who  was  not  in  the  General's  confidence, 
made  a  gallant  but  quite  unsuccessful  effort  to  stand  in 
the  breach. 

"  Maister  Hairry — the  Colonel  that  is,  will  be  asleep — 
I  mean  he  is  oot  on  meelitary  business  and  has  taken  the 
key  with  him." 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Cromwell,  taking  the  article  from 
his  pocket  and  dangling  it  from  his  forefinger. 
"  Now,  Smith,  no  more  words.  You  know  me.  Lead 
on!" 

Abiathar  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  jerk  which  meant 
to  convey  that  he  rid  himself  of  all  responsibility.  He 
stood  back,  indicating  the  door  with  a  stately  bow  and 
a  wave  of  the  hand  in  the  style  which  he  called  his  '*  best 
King  Jamie  " — being  a  reminiscent  of  the  Herald's  bow 
before  majesty  when  James  Sixth  and  First  visited  the 
Towers  on  one  of  his  royal  progresses.  But  Cromwell 
was  not  impressed. 

"  Now  get  away !  "  he  ordered. 

Abiathar  stared  as  if  unable  to  believe  his  ears.  His 
master  would  never  have  spoken  to  him  so. 

"  Get  away,"  repeated  the  General.     "  Stand  in  the 


HIGH  STRATEGY  326 

hall  and  receive  the  lady  who  will  arrive  immediately. 
Keep  her  below  till  I  send  for  her." 

Abiathar  tramped  away  with  his  shoulders  very  square 
and  his  head  erect.  "  I  believe  he  thought — he  was  of 
the  opeenion  that  I,  Abiathar  Smith  frae  the  Tibbers  in 
Disdeer  parochin,  would  demean  mysel'  by  listening !  " 

He  sighed  softly. 

"  Ah,  weel,  at  ony  rate  I  canna !    That's  plain." 

Cromwell  presented  the  key  to  my  Lord.  He  took  it 
as  a  courtesy  due  to  his  rank,  bowed  a  slight  acknowledg- 
ment, turned  it  in  the  lock,  pushed  the  door  and  entered, 
closely  followed  by  Cromwell. 

A  figure  in  white  sat  up  in  bed,  and  with  a  hasty  ges- 
ture tossed  a  light  foam  of  ringlets  out  of  eyes  still  heavy 
with  sleep.  A  man's  shirt  with  torn  collar  showed  a 
rosy  flush  of  shame  mounting  to  two  pale  cheeks. 

"  Father,"  cried  Lady  Molly,  "  oh,  father,  I  love  him 
so ! 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  said  her  father  grimly.  "  You  shall 
come  with  me  this  instant,  and  if  I  cannot  shut  you  up 
for  the  rest  of  your  natural  life  in  this  country,  by  Gad 
I'll  make  a  papist  of  you  and  send  you  to  a  nunnery  in 
France !    Get  up  at  once  and  come  with  me !  " 

"  But  I  can't,  father." 

"  And  pray,  why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  no  clothes — only  this !  "  said  the 
Lady  Molly,  "  and  I  will  not  go  to  a  nunnery.  I  will 
appeal  to  Parliament.  Colonel  Cromwell  will  speak  for 
me  and  for  Hal.  He  likes  Hal  and  says  that  he  would 
gladly  have  given  him  one  of  his  daughters.  So  why  not 
you,  father  ? " 

"  You  shall  never  marry  a  money-lender's  son  with  my 
consent — and  my  promise  to  my  friend  the  Earl  repeated 
only  last  night." 

Here  Cromwell  thought  it  well  to  intervene. 

"  My  Lord,"  he  said  with  that  composed  weightiness 


326  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

of  demeanour  with  which  he  summed  up  a  campaign 
before  the  House.  "If  the  case  were  my  own,  I  should 
say  that  marriage  was  the  only  course  left  open — and  the 
sooner  the  better.  I  speak  not  of  the  private  scandal,  but 
rather  of  what  is  due  to  the  Cause.  I  put  it  to  myself 
thus.  My  daughter  (we  shall  say)  has  run  away  from 
home  dressed  as  a  sailor  to  join  a  young  man  whom  I 
have  forbidden  her  to  marry.  Most  wrong  and  dis- 
obedient, I  own.  But  she  has  been  severely  mishandled 
and  even  wounded.  She  has  been  plucked  from  among 
the  feet  of  horses.  She  has  been  recognised  by  officers 
of  Colonel  Ludlow's  cavalry,  by  servants  of  this  house. 
I  find  her — thus — in  the  morning — and  (to  speak  plainly, 
my  Lord)  in  these  circumstances  I  should  count  myself 
exceedingly  lucky  to  have  such  a  young  man  to  deal  with 
as  Colonel  Henry  Ludlow,  wise  and  brave  in  war — if  not 
too  prudent  in  love — his  father's  only  son  and  the  heir 
to  his  estates." 

"Oh,"  cried  Lady  Molly,  "I  don't  want  all  that— I 
want  Hal  to  have  nothing  except  me,  and  I  be  his  slave — 
with  a  silver  collar." 

Lady  Molly  had  almost  leaped  from  the  bed  in  her 
eagerness  and  now  sat  with  the  white  sheet  about  her 
mufifled  to  the  chin,  perfectly  unashamed,  her  large  eyes 
dark  and  wet,  her  mouth  determined,  and  her  golden 
hair  falling  about  her  face  and  neck  in  twists  and 
tendrils. 

Cromwell  indicated  the  Lady  Molly  with  a  little  jerk 
of  the  chin,  which  meant,  "  It  is  no  use,  my  friend,  you 
cannot  coerce  a  girl  Hke  that.  I  could  not  and  I  am  sure 
you  can't." 

"  I  consent ! "  quoth  my  Lord,  ungraciously  enough, 
and  turned  upon  his  heel. 

"  Stay,"  said  Cromwell,  "  there  are  a  few  arrange- 
ments. Abiathar,  let  the  lady  come  up  and  bring  her 
packets.     Carry  them  yourself." 

A  blooming  little  lady,  pouting  and  wilful,  but  with 


HIGH  STRATEGY 

eyes  brimming  over  with  mischief,  came  pattering  along 
the  passage,  holding  up  her  skirt  so  that  she  might  arrive 
the  quicker. 

"  Oh,  where  is  she — I  could  love  her — to  run  thus  to 
find  a  husband.  While  I — I  should  rather  run  from  mine, 
only  that  he  would  never  miss  me." 

"  Mistress  John  Milton,"  announced  Abiathar  in  his 
pompous  way,  but  with  less  success  than  usual,  for  he 
was  staggering  along  (as  he  said  himself)  "  like  Issachar 
the  strong  ass,  between  two  burdens." 

The  gentlemen  looked  at  each  other  as  the  door  closed 
upon  the  wet-eyed  figure  in  the  heaped  coverlet  and  a 
little  lady  who  danced  all  about  the  room  with  excitement. 

"  See  what  I  have  brought !  "  she  was  beginning  when 
the  door  closed  and  shut  in  their  conference. 

Then  Lord  Woodham  Walter  burst  into  a  boisterous 
laugh,  and  slapped  his  thigh. 

"  If  the  hen  pecks  her  husband  as  the  chick  hath 
pecked  me,  I  do  not  envy  bold  Master  Hal  of  the  Iron- 
sides ! " 

"  It  might  be  as  well,"  said  Cromwell,  "  to  intimate  to 
Mr.  Chief  Commissioner  that  his  house  is  to  be  the  scene 
of  a  marriage.     He  might  object." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all — not  at  all,"  snapped  my  Lord.  "  It  is 
an  honour  for  him,  and  one  I  never  meant  to  afford  him. 
But  that  minx  Moll  hath  forced  my  card.  I  believe  she 
did  it  on  purpose." 

"  Not  she,  but  I,"  said  Cromwell. 

"  You !  "  cried  my  Lord  fiercely. 

"  I,"  repeated  the  General,  staring  him  down. 

"  And  why,  pray  ?  " 

"  My  Lord,  to  teach  you  a  little  humility !  " 

"  Well,  you  have  taught  that  lesson  to  greater  folk 
than  I.  A  poor  country  lord  need  not  object.  But  here 
comes  the  minister  and  his  clerk.  Hal,  you  rascal,  what  a 
trick  you  have  played  me !  But  you  shall  smart  for  this. 
And  your  father — what — he  knows  all  about  it?    Then 


328  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

with  all  you  against  me  and  my  own  daughter  the  worst 
sinner  of  all,  what  wonder  I  am  beaten !  " 

An  improvised  bride  came  into  the  hall  in  sweeping 
white,  the  wild  ripple  of  her  ringlets  for  once  decently 
snooded, 

"  I  thought  they  were  about  the  same  size,"  meditated 
Cromwell,  who  could  think  of  everything.  "  How  I  wish 
my  Elizabeth  were  here !  " 

"  And  this  bond  of  holy  matrimony  I  lay  upon  thee  for 
a  badge  of  servitude,"  said  the  minister,  and  after  the 
giving  of  the  ring,  Hal  snapped  upon  his  mistress's  neck 
her  heart's  desire,  the  silver  collar  of  Neiia  la  Fain.  It 
had  come  to  him  through  Zered  that  morning,  but  with 
the  inscription  erased. 

And  just  then,  more  joyous  than  after  Marston  Moor 
or  Newbury,  the  bugles  of  the  Ironsides  rang  out,  and  as 
these  two  showed  themselves  on  the  balcony  the  mighty 
shout  of  Hog  Lane  led  the  regiment,  as  the  Second  Cam- 
bridgeshire Horse  saluted  their  Colonel  and  their 
Colonel's  wife. 

The  tale  as  a  tale  ends  here,  but  one  most  significant 
event  must  not  be  forgotten.  Nor  will  it  ever  be  by  those 
who  have  grown  up  with  the  new  thing  which  was  to  rule 
England  and  watched  it  from  the  day  when  it  was  merely 
the  newly  hatched  Slepe  Troop  to  the  day  when,  as  the 
full-fledged  New  Model  Army,  it  broke  the  King  and  all 
his  gentlemen  upon  Naseby  Field. 

It  was  Parliament  Day  upon  Blackheath  and  the  army, 
which  had  crushed  Rupert  at  Marston  Moor,  circled 
Oxford  and  laid  waste  the  King's  array  at  Naseby  Broad 
Heath,  was  drawn  out  for  review.  All  the  afternoon  the 
cavalry  had  wheeled  and  charged,  the  infantry  rattled 
shotless  cartridges,  the  artillery  harmlessly  roared  and 
thundered  for  the  good  pleasure  of  citizens  and  parlia- 
mentarians. 


HIGH  STRATEGY  329 

Upon  a  little  knoll  opposite  the  pavilion  prepared  for 
the  grandees  at  the  Houses — War  Department,  Com- 
mittee of  Both  Kingdoms,  Commonwealth  advisers  and 
such-like — General  Cromwell  held  himself  apart.  Behind 
him  were  the  pick  of  his  officers — Ireton,  Fleetwood,  Hal 
himself.  A  little  disdainfully  they  stood.  They  had  done 
the  \*'ork  and  this  raree  show  was  like  making  a  good  dog 
jump  over  a  stick.  The  review  had  been  left  to  their 
subordinates,  and  men  like  Sam  Squire  and  Zered  Tuby 
were  in  their  element.  It  may  be  that  they  were  re- 
sponsible for  what  followed. 

At  any  rate,  certain  it  is  that  when  the  time  came  to 
salute  the  State  tribune,  where  were  the  Lords  and 
Commons  of  the  Long  Parliament,  the  cannon  thundered 
out  on  the  flanks,  and  when  the  high  dignitaries  rose  to 
acknowledge  the  compliment,  seven  thousand  swords 
flashed  in  the  air,  twenty-one  thousand  muskets  came  to 
the  salute. 

But  not  to  do  honour  to  the  men  of  committees  and 
associations.  As  one  man  the  troops  had  wheeled  about 
and  were  saluting  a  tall  man  in  rusty  red,  dinted  helm 
and  mended  uniform.  He  sat  his  horse  alone  and  motion- 
less on  a  little  knoll  among  the  fern  and  gorse  bushes  of 
Blackheath. 

And  as  from  horizon  to  horizon  the  steel  glittered  to 
the  salute,  all  comprehended  with  a  sudden  shock  that 
the  real  part  of  the  day's  programme  had  been  reached, 
when  with  impressive  unanimity  sword  and  musket, 
lance  and  pike,  were  depressed  before  the  tall  silent  man 
on  the  knoll,  and  the  old  Ironsides'  battle-chant  surged 
stormily  from  wing  to  wing  of  that  imposing  array : — 

"  In  midst  of  all  thine  enemies 
Be  THOU  the  governor!" 

And  lest  there  should  be  any  mistake  Hog  Lane  and  the 
Slepe  Troop,  directly  in  front,  pointed  with  their  swords 


330  HAL  0'  THE  IRONSIDES 

at  the  stately  figure  upon  the  knoll,  while  from  the  thirty- 
thousand  throats  of  the  New  Model  Army,  their  backs 
turned  to  Lords  and  Commons  alike,  pealed  the  stern 
summons  of  the  men  who  now  ruled  England : — 

"Be  THOU  the  governor." 


PRINTED  IN   THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


FICTION  WORTH  READING 


.S".    R.    CROCKETT         Author  of '  The  SHckit  MinisUt  " 
■  "  The  Raiders"  etc. 

Silver  Sand 

A  Romance  of  Old  Galloway.    Cloth,  net  $1.25. 

"In  this  romance  published  only  a  few  days  after  his 
death,  we  find  Mr.  Crockett  in  his  familiar  Wigtownshire, 
writing  at  his  best,  and  giving  us  an  even  finer  display  of  his 
powers  than  when  he  first  captured  his  admirers.  'Silver 
Sand'  is  certainly  one  of  the  best  things  he  ever  did.  Some 
of  the  characters  here  portrayed  are  among  the  best  of  his 
many  creations,  with  an  even  added  depth  and  tenderness." — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

CAROLINE   ABBOT   STANLEY 

Dr.  Llewellyn  and  His  Friends 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

Mrs.  Stanley's  new  book  is  a  human  chronicle  of  absorbing 
interest.  Humor  and  pathos  of  a  rare  order  alternate  in  its 
pages,  together  with  some  astonishingly  good  delineation  of 
negro  life  and  character.  _  The  Kansas  City  Star  says:  "If 
there  is  to  be  a  Missouri  school  of  literature  to  rival  the 
famed  Indiana  institution,  Mrs.  Stanley  has  fairly  earned  the 
right  to  a  charter  membership." 

GRACE  LIVINGSTON  HILL   LUTZ 

The  Man  of  the  Desert 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

Ite  author  of  "The  Best  Man,"  "Marcia  Schuyler,"  etc., 
enjoys  no  mean  reputation  as  a  weaver  of  sweet,  wholesome 
romances,  a  reputation  which  "The  Man  of  the  Desert" 
fully  maintains.  Her  latest  book  tells  the  love  story  of  a 
daughter  of  luxury  and  a  plain  man  facing  his  duty  and 
doing  his  work  on  the  home  mission  field  of  the  West.  Every 
reader  of  this  charming  story  will  be  made  to  rejoice  in  the 
happy  triumph  over  difficulties  which  gives  to  these  young 
people  the  crowning  joy  of  life,  the  union  of  kindred  souls. 

THURLOW  FRASER 

The  Call  of  The  Ea^ 

A  Romance  of  Far  Formosa.  Illustrated,  lanto, 
cloth,  net  $1.25. 

Here  is  a  jewel  in  romance — set  amid  the  blossom-laden 
islands  of  the  Eastern  seas.  To  its  making  go  the  record 
of  one  white  man's  heroism  and  native  worth,  of  anothGr's 
baseness  and  treachery;  some  thrilling  incidents  of  the  French 
invasion  of  Formosa;  a  satisfying  picture  of  the  great 
pioneer  missionary  Mackay,  and  a  love-story  as  old  as  Eden, 
yet  as  fresh  as  the  dews  of  the  morning. 


FICTION  WORTH  READING 


NORMAN  DUNCAN 

The  Bird-Store  Man 

An  Old-Fashioned  Story.  Illustrated,  l2mo, 
boards,  net  75c. 

By  the  sheer  wizardy  of  his  art,  the  author  illumines  a  gray, 
shabby  neighborhood  with  genial  light,  and  makes  of  a  dingy 
bird  store  a  temple  of  high  romance.  What  happens  to 
Timothy  I'witter,  the  cheery  old  bird  dealer;  to  a  wonderful 
dog  Alexander;  to  the  little  girl  who  owns  him  and  her 
veteran  grandfather,  is  related  with  a  whimsical  tenderness 
few  writers  since  Dickens  have  been  able  to  employ.  Ther« 
is  many  a  long  chuckle  awaiting  the  readers  of  I'HE  BIRD 
STORE  MAN,  and  not  a  few  tugs  at  the  heart. 

CLARA   E.    LAUGHLIN         ,  Author  of 

-^— — — — — — — — —  Everybody's  Lonesome 

Everybody's  Birthright 

A  Vision  of  Jeanne  dArc.  Illustrated,  i2mo, 
cloth,  net  75c. 

"A  tender,  heart-reaching  and  heart-finding  story.  The 
aspirations  of  the  average  young  girl  are  too  little  under- 
stood. Miss  Laughlin  not  only  understands  them,  but  she 
provides  something  for  them  to  feed  on.  In  all,  she  has 
contrived  to  put  a  lot  of  thoughts  on  interesting  problems 
into  a  story  that  is  full  of  the  human  touches  that  gives  life 
to  a  book.  It  should  add  another  to  that  series  of  classics 
for  girls  which  have  made  Miss  Laughlin  the  friend  of  girls 
and  parents  as  well." — Norma  Bright  Carson. 

WINIFRED  ARNOLD  Author  of  ''Mis'  Bassett's 

— ^— — — ~— — — — ~  Matrwiony  Bureau" 

Little  Merry  Christmas 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  boards,  net  60c. 

From  the  moment  she  alights,  one  wintry  night,  at  the 
snow-piled  station  of  Oatka  Center,  little  Mary  Christie  be- 
gins to  carry  sunshine  and  happiness  into  the  frosty  homes, 
and  still  frostier  hearts  of  its  inhabitants.  How  Lem  Perkins, 
her  crusty  old  uncle,  together  with  the  entire  village,  is  led 
into  the  delectable  kingdom  of  Peace  and  Goodwill  by  the 
guiding  hand  of  a  child,  is  here  told  in  as  sweet  and  jolly 
a  little  story  as  anybody  has  either  written  or  read  in  many 
a    long   year. 

NORMAN  HINSDALE  PITMAN     ..  ^,    Aujhorof 

— — — ^^-^^— — ^^■^— ^— — —         The  Lady  Lied,    eit. 

A  Chinese  Christmas  Tree 

Illustrated  by  Liu  Hsing-p'u.     Boards,  net  50c. 

Here  is  a  Christmas  story  that  is  "different"— scenes  laid 
in  China,  real  Chinese  children  romping  through  its  chapters, 
and  illustrated  by  quaint  pictures  drawn  bya  real  Chinese 
artist.  Those  who  gratefully  remember  this  author's  fine 
story  "The  Lady  Elect,"  will  not  be  surprised  to  find  a  vein 
of  mellow  wisdom,  tampered  with  warm,  glowing  sunshine. 


FICTION  WORTH  READING 


CYRUS   TOIFNSEND  BRADY 

The  Little  Angel  of  Canyon  Creek 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

A  cracking  good  story  of  the  bad  old  days  of  the  Western 
Colorado  mining  camps — days  when  a  man's  chances  of 
returning  to  his  cabin  o'nights  depended  very  largely  on  the 
despatch  with  which  he  could  bring  his  gun  to  the  "draw." 
Into  one  of  these  lawless  camps  comes  little  Olaf,  a  homeless 
wanderer  from  the  East.  His  advent,  followed  by  that  of 
the  Morrisons,  marks  a  new  era  for  Canyon  Creek  which 
ends  in  the  "cleaning  up"  of  the  entire  town.  Dr.  Brady 
gives  us  a  captivating  tale,  brim-full  of  the  vim  and  color 
incident  to  days  and  places  where  life  was  cheap,  and  virtue 
both  rare  and  dear. 

MARIETTA    HOLLEY  "Samantha  Allen'' 

Josiah  Allen  on  the  Woman  Question 

Ilustrated,  i6mo,  cloth,  net  $r.oo. 

Anew  volume  from  the  pen  of  Miss  Holley,  marked  by  such 
quaint  thoughtfulness  and  timely  reflection  as  ran  through 
"Samantha."  All  who  read  it  will  be  bound  to  feel  better,  as 
indeed  they  should,  for  they  will  have  done  some  hearty  laughing, 
and  have  been  'up  against'  some  bits  of  striking  philosophy  deliv- 
ered with  point,  vigor,  and  chuckling  humor.  All  Josiah  Allen's 
opinions  are  wittily,  pithily  expressed,  causing  the  whole  book  to 
fairly  bubble  with  homely,  fun-provoking  wisdom. 

/.    /.    BELL  Author  of  "  Wee  Macgreesor," 

—^—— "Oh/  Christitia!"  etc. 

The  Misadventures  of  Joseph 

i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.00. 

A  characteristic  story  in  which  the  author  displays  unusual 
ability  to  portray  with  quiet,  humorous  touch,  the  idiosyn- 
crasies of  Scottish  life  and  character.  Through  a  series  of 
highly  diverting  chapters  a  homely  yet  worthy  house-painter 
extricates  himself  from  many  a  seeming  dilemma,  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  a  kindly  charity  and  the  best  attributes  of  a  man. 

THEODORA  PECK  ..    ,      Author  o/ 

——^—————  The  Sword  of  Dundee" 

White  Dawn 

A  Legend  of  Ticonderoga.    Illustrated,  net  $1.25. 

A  real  romance,  redolent  of  love  and  war.  The  plot, 
for  the  most  part,  is  laid  in  the  beautiful  Champlain  valley, 
in  the  days  when  the  British  were  storming  Ticonderoga, 
and  the  armies  of  Wolfe  and  Montcalm  striving  for  su- 
premacy in  the  northern  part  of  the  continent.  Miss  Peck 
simply  packs  her  book  with  action,  and  depicts  scene  after 
scene  which  literally  resound  with  the  din  of  battle  and  the 
clash  of  arms. 


FICTION— OUT-DOOR  LIFE— JUVENILE 


LATHAN  A.  CRANDALL 

Days  in  the  Open 

A  Fisherman's  Answer  to  the  Red  God's  Call. 
Decorations  by  Louis  Rhead.     Illustrated,  net  $1.50. 

Here  is  a  book  which  has  about  it  something  of  old  Izaak 
\V!alton,  of  Richard  Jefferies,  of  Henry  van  Dyke.  But  there 
is  a  very  much  more  of  the  author  himself;  for  he  is  of 
that  diverting  and  gallant  company  who  love  to  chant  the 
praises  of  moor  and  mead,  of  silver  stream,  of  the  open 
road.  Mr.  Crandall  is  an  enthusiastic  angler  and  his  book  is 
the  record  of  a  man  out  on  his  peaceful  adventures,  whip- 
ping winsome  waters  and  treading  fresh,  sweet  earth.  There 
IS  a  positive  fascination  about  what  he  writes,  too,  which  if  it 
does  not,  like  a  Pied  Piper,  lure  a  man  out  of  the  city  gate, 
will,  at  least,  give  him  to  long  to  be  awa*  in  the  core  of 
Nature's  heart. 

REV.  ALBERT  H.  PLUMB 

When  Mayflowers  Blossom 

A  Romance  of  Plymouth's  First  Years.    8vo,  net  $1.50. 

Rev.  William  Allen  Knight,  Litt.D.,  author  of  "The  Song 
of  Our  Syrian  Guest,"  says:  "  'When  Mayflowers  Blossom' 
is  a  love  story  told  in  a  big,  brainy  way.  It  is  Homeric  in  its 
leisureliness,  its  grave  mind-play  on  a  historic  tradition,  its 
occasional  deft  pictures  in  words.  For  example,  read  the 
chapter,  'Tempest  on  the  Deep,'  and  note  that  'next  morn- 
ing the  sun  rose  murky  red  liice  a  wounded  warrior  in  flow- 
ing blood  lifting  himself  from  a  battle  field.'  Minds  fond  of 
old-time  meatiness  in  writing  will  find  thi&  book  worthy  of 
their  attention." 

DILLON    WALLACE     Author  of"  The  Lure  of  the  Labrador 
■  Wild"  and  "Ungava  Bob'" 

The  Gaunt  Gray  Wolf 

Illustrated.     i2mo,  cloth,  net  $1.25. 

A  rattling  new  storjr  by  the  man  who  survived  the  perils 
of  the  great  journey  into  the  heart  of  Labrador  which  re- 
sulted in  the  death  of  Leonidas  Hubbard,  Jr.  "Ungava 
Bob"  here  makes  a  welcome  reappearance,  and  through  a 
series  of  thrilling  adventures  both  he  and  his  companion. 
Shad  Trowbridge,  face  danger^  and  hardship  with  the  st-iflE 
upper  lip  of  "gentlemen  unafraid." 

REV.    S.  J.  REID 

Young  People's  Pilgrim's  Progress 

With  Exposition.     Illustrated,  net  $1.00. 

"The  young  people  of  former  generations  read  Bunyan's 
classic  with  delight.  Dr.  Reid  has  been  a  profound  student 
of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and,  without  laying  vandal  hands 
on  it,  has  succeeded  in  producing  a  'new  version'  of  the 
classic  that  will  be  understood  and  appreciated  by  everyone. 
The  older  people  will  enjoy  it  and  profit  by  it  as  muoh 
as  the  younger  people." — Watchman-Examiner. 


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